


The Message

by johnandsherlocks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jealous John, M/M, Pining John, Post-The Empty Hearse, Post-The Reichenbach Fall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnandsherlocks/pseuds/johnandsherlocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years had passed without hearing that sound coming from Sherlock's phone. That sound that could only mean trouble. But she was dead, wasn't she? Who had saved her? John didn't want to find the answer, but he already knew it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: English is not my first language, so you may find some typos or grammatical mistakes. If you do, please tell me so I can fix them. I already have the next chapter done, and I will publish it when I see how this fic goes. The main couple is not Irene/Sherlock, of course. This is centered in John/Sherlock and the reason why I included Irene is because I find John's jealousy towards her rather interesting.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it.  
> An I'd love to see your comments/suggestions/kudos :3

 

It had been three years without hearing a single word from her. He never needed to wonder what had happened to her. He knew, he was certain she had died, that was what Mycroft had told him wasn't it? Of course she had died. He never dared to mention her to Sherlock ever again, he knew it was painful to him, he had seen his expression when he asked for her phone, he knew Sherlock wasn't okay with it, and it terrified him, it terrified him to think it was for someone who had played such a dirty game. But she was dead now, so much time without naming her, everything was as if nothing ever happened. Until that day.

John went to the living room where Sherlock was sitting, drinking a cup of tea. He was silent, thinking, he was trying to solve a mystery, he had been like this for the last three days, and he couldn't find a solution yet. It was driving him crazy, it must had been a very elaborated plan if it was taking him so long to solve it.

He was dying to know who had entered to his room that Friday evening, three days ago, and what that person had taken. It couldn't have been John, he was with him at Scotland Yard. It couldn't have been Mrs. Hudson, she was on a trip with his new partner. Who had entered to his room? What did that person want? He knew someone had been there just by glancing at his room, something wasn't right, someone took something but he couldn't figure out what if was.

John sat in his chair and opened the newspaper. Then Sherlock's phone sounded. That noise. That famous noise they had heard three years ago. There was no doubt it was her, but how?. John looked at the phone lying on the table, he couldn't hide his amusement, Sherlock didn't move, he was still and quiet in his chair, like he didn't hear anything.

"Aren't you going to see the message?"

"What message?"-Sherlock stood without moving, just thinking, apparently.

"The message that just arrived! Don't pretend like you didn't hear it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

John was so curious, he wanted to know what was going on, what had happened to her. She had been dead for three years and now she was back? How was that even possible? Well, it couldn't be that surprising to John, apparently faking death was easier than he thought. She wasn't the first case.

"Sherlock Holmes, we both know who sent that text, so stop acting like you don't give a damn about it and see what she has to say now!"

Sherlock looked at John, expressionless, he took his phone, looked at the message and locked it again, without saying a word. John was staring at him. "Happy?"

"What did it say, Sherlock?"

"Good morning Mr. Holmes."

"That's all? We hadn't known anything about her for three years and all she has to say is 'Good Morning'?"

"What else did you expect?"

John remembered what he had told Sherlock that day about Irene getting into a witness protection program in the US. He knew from that moment that Sherlock was aware she had died, but didn't say a thing. He had to stick up with the lie, and so he did. "She must be back in England"- Some kind of bitterness came from John's voice, he couldn't help it, he didn't have a good feeling about this situation. "Do you think...?"

Sherlock cut him off, sounding annoyed, clearly not wanting to talk about it. "Of course she is but I honestly couldn't care less John, the only good thing about that message is that now I know who broke into my room. It was the phone, it was her phone! Case solved! Now if you excuse me I have better things to do than checking on who sends me texts".

He stood up and left. John felt confused, he knew Sherlock was a drama queen, but this was different, he wasn't faking it, Irene's message caught him off guard and brought him back to reality. Something wasn't right. Sherlock knew how to hide his feelings perfectly. But that message seemed to change something within him, John didn't know what, but that wasn't the Sherlock Holmes he used to know. This was some kind of hurt, shocked, surprised Sherlock Holmes.

\-------

 

Sherlock stormed into his room and shut the door, he definitely needed some time alone to think. How couldn't have he noticed the fact that her phone was no longer in his room? Had he really forgotten about her? Just like that? Well, that message proved that he still felt something towards her, he didn't know whether it was pain, or anger, or... Of course not, not that.

He was holding his phone when it rang again: it was definitely her, without a single doubt. He unlocked it immediately, he was so curious, what could she possibly want right now? " _I'm back in England. Let's have dinner_ ".

He felt the need to reply to her, but he knew that it wasn't what he was supposed to be like, he was so surprised that even if he had texted her back he wouldn't even know what to say to her.

John knocked on the door. "Sherlock are you okay?"

Sherlock stood in the bed. "I'm fine". There was something about Sherlock's voice that didn't sound fine at all.

"Can I come in?"

Sherlock didn't move. "No. I'm busy, I'm thinking".

"Sherlock, please, I really need to talk to you".

Sherlock opened the door, John was holding a glass of wine in his hand, he looked at Sherlock, Sherlock didn't look him back, he just stared at the window, speechless. "So, she's back".

"Obviously".

"Sherlock, there's something I need to tell you, perhaps it isn't the right thing to do but I need to say it."

"I hear you"

"Remember how I told you she had gotten into a witness protection program? Well, she didn't, she... She was killed, I'm sorry, I should have told you, but I'm telling you now because someone is playing a game with you Sherlock, and it's probably a very dangerous one".

Sherlock stared at him "You just talked to Mycroft and told him what had happened, you felt tired but felt the need to stay awake so you served a cup of coffee but thought it wasn't enough so you got yourself some wine. You talked to Mrs. Hudson, apparently the sex holiday is not going quite well, I think his new man is seeing someone else. You had a fight with Harry this morning, she is drinking again after all the money you spent in treatments. She's also talking to Clara again, they might come back together, she didn't tell you because she didn't know how to."

John looked at him without saying a word. Finally he spoke again. "What has that to do with what I just told you?"

"I can tell from one look at your face everything you did today. Of course I knew that day that you were lying, and no, she's not dead."

"Sherlock! Mycroft made sure it was her! He said it only took you to fool him!"

"He said that didn't he?"

Then the thought of what Sherlock had implied hit John. He was surprised. He had done it. He had save her life. "No..."

"Shut up!"

"You saved her? Sherlock, she almost ruined the British government! She worked with Moriarty, do you remember that?"

"Of course I remember it John! I just...I...."

John felt a rush of anger coming up to his face, he didn't know what he was feeling, he was just so mad. Sherlock never told him anything, he thought he was his best friend, but now he just keeps hiding everything from him, he couldn't hide his anger. "Fine, fine, I get it, good. What else should I know, did you save Moriarty too?"

Sherlock glanced at him. He didn't say a word, but lately he had been having the feeling that the rooftop at St. Bart's Hospital hadn't been their last problem, he felt there was more to come, but how? Moriarty had killed himself.

John just looked at him as he kept thinking. After a moment of awkward silence, John held some disappointment in his eyes. "Text her back, you don't want her to think you're not overwhelmingly excited that she's back".

Sherlock was holding his phone. He was looking at it, and he didn't look up at John: "Good night John".

"Right, sure, good night".

\----------------

 

The next morning, Sherlock was awaken by the ringing of his phone. Well, not exactly the ringing, the woman's tone. He opened his eyes immediately. " _It's been so long without seeing you Mr. Holmes! How have you been? Let's have dinner."_

He locked the phone again, and got into the living room. Mycroft was sitting in Sherlock's chair, reading the newspaper, Sherlock looked at him with an expression of unpleasant surprise. "For God's sake! What are you doing here?"

Mycroft kept his eyes on the newspaper, and smirked when he heard Sherlock: "I'm happy to see you too, brother dear. I'm fine, since you didn't ask"

"Yes, hello, now, what are you doing here?"

"John phoned me last night, he told me about the message" Sherlock looked at him with a sarcastic expression: "Really? You don't say!"

Sherlock took his violin and started playing it, trying to give Mycroft a very clear message: he was unwelcome. After a time he realized it was pointless, so he just stood looking at the window while his brother remained silent. "Where is John by the way?"

"He went to the market, I met him in the entrance door"

"So, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I think you know exactly why I am here"

"No, I don't"

"And you say you're the smart one..." -Sherlock glanced at him, he looked furious. Mycroft changed the subject to save himself from a fight- "...anyway, is there something you haven't told me Sherlock?"

"There are a lot of things I don't tell you, for example, your diet is not working, and neither exercising, you have to cut it with the cakes".

Before Mycroft could answer, Sherlock's phone sounded again. They both directed their looks to the object lying in the table. Sherlock sat in John's chair without saying a word. Mycroft smirked: "What an interesting sound Sherlock! I hadn't heard it in _three_ years." -Sherlock recognized immediately when his brother used that expression, that little, sour smile drawing in his face, it could only mean trouble. Mycroft was furious.

"Really? Has it been that long?" -Sherlock said sarcastically.

Mycroft looked at him, thinking on what to say next. Sherlock could see the anger pumping through his face, he didn't like what was about to come. "Sherlock Holmes! She died!" -he shouted.

"Oh come on Mycroft, if you are the smart one, you should already know!"

Mycroft sounded desperate, inpatient, helpless. "I made sure of it! I looked at the body!"

"But you didn't _know_ the body!"

"Did _you_?" -Sherlock stood quiet. "See? That's your problem Sherlock! It's always the problem! You call yourself a sociopath! You say that caring is not an advantage! But look! Look at the mess you've made! You see what happens when you _care_?"

"I don't care about her Mycroft!"

"Then why did you save her life?"

Sherlock didn't know what to say, why did he? He didn't have the answer, he had no idea, he certainly hated not knowing. "Why did John, amongst all people, chose to call you?"

"Because he knows this isn't a good sign, Sherlock!, her being back! It can't be something good! It simply can't! You better stay away from her!"

Sherlock was about to reply when John arrived holding some bags, he stood in the door, in the middle of the fight, looking at them both. They went quiet and stared at each other.

Mycroft recovered the calm, and went to the door. "I shall go, brother of mine, I hope you understand what I told you. Goodbye John." John nodded and Mycroft left.

Sherlock took his violin again and started playing without saying a word. John left the bags on the kitchen and opened the fridge to put the milk inside, as usual, the fridge was the scenario of Sherlock's experiments. "Sherlock! There's a hand on the fridge!" Sherlock pretended he didn't hear him and kept playing "Sher... Sherlock!" -John shouted.

He put down the violin and didn't look at John, just stared at the window. "Why did you call my brother?"- he sounded so angry, he couldn't even pretend he wasn't, John felt the tone of his voice and felt alarmed. He really thought he was helping Sherlock by calling Mycroft. Apparently, it hadn't been his best choice.

"Because... I thought it was the best thing to do!"

Sherlock turned and his eyes buried in John's face, he was angry, he was really angry. "It certainly wasn't John! It was stupid!" -the word stupid came almost like a shout.

"What should I say? That I'm sorry?"

"Do whatever you want."

"Seriously, are you angry because I'm caring about your well being?" The words stood in the air, Sherlock heard each one of them carefully, surprised. _Caring is not an advantage_.

"My well being? My well being? If you knew at least a little about me then you wouldn't have called my brother!" -he didn't know why, he felt so defensive, like if he was being exposed.

"What the hell is wrong with you Sherlock? You've been acting so weird since yesterday! If I didn't know you better I'd say that her message affected you deeply."

Sherlock stared at John, the anger was growing bigger and bigger, he thought about what he was going to say, when the words came abruptly from his mouth: "You don't know me at all John, at all!"

John looked disappointed, no longer angry, he was in pain, not physically, but somehow emotionally, like Sherlock's words had hit him hard. "You know? Each day it feels more and more like I really don't" 

Sherlock regretted immediately of what he had said. But he was still so mad. He didn't know what he was doing, he wasn't thinking properly, he was just saying stupid things, but in some way, it was liberating.

"No, you definitely don't."-Sherlock said with a sigh- "and that proves me something"

"What?"

"That I don't have any friends".


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Problems in paradise?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So chapter 2 is here! Thanks to everyone who have been reading it and have left kudos! It means a lot :)  
> This chapter is shorter, but no need to worry, Chapter 3 will be uploaded very soon! Enjoy! :D

John stormed into his room and shut the door making a very loud noise. He was so angry, he fought with Sherlock all the time but this was different. How dared he say he wasn't his friend? After all they had been through? He had definitely crossed the line.

Except he had crossed the line a million times before, and John always came back, because he cared for him, of course he did, he was his best friend, but apparently he wasn't Sherlock's.And that made him even angrier, how could he say that John Watson, the man who cried his death for two years straight, the man who had saved his life so many times, the man who had always been there for him, wasn't even his friend?

It hurt, he tried not to make a big deal of it, but he couldn't stop thinking about it, he needed to calm himself and stop thinking about what happened, so he took his coat and thought about leaving the apartment dramatically, but when he got to the living room, Sherlock was not longer there.

\-------------

 

Sherlock saw John storming into his room and he did the same, he was so angry, John didn't have to do that! How could he call his brother? What a stupid thing he had done!.

Then, he remembered the words John pronounced to him: _I care about your well-being._ He decided that John didn't care at all, definitely, he just said it because he thought it might move something inside Sherlock and he would forget everything he did, but that's not how Sherlock's mind worked.

He felt so much anger repressed inside him, ready to burst. "He cares about me? No he doesn't. He does not at all."

He heard the door of the apartment close. John was gone. When he calmed himself enough, Sherlock went to the living room and remembered what happened when he was talking to Mycroft: Irene had texted him, he took his phone in a rush, and unlocked it.

" _I love when you play these little games with me. Let's have dinner_."

What? Which games? He never said he was up to play with her again. Not again. He had won the last one, he wasn't risking to lose this time.

Then it all came back to him, he remembered instantly everything that had happened, he still felt hurt, betrayed, she had played a very dirty game, and she lost it. What if she wanted revenge?, what if this time she was more determined to break down the British government? Or what if she just wanted to thank him for saving her life? Sherlock couldn't help but smile.

_Oh, the woman_.

\----------------

 

John walked some blocks without knowing where he was going, he was thinking, he couldn't stop thinking. Leaving the apartment made things definitely better but he wasn't sure if he wasn't going to punch Sherlock's face the next time he saw it. He arrived to the place where his sub-conscious had taken him: Angelo's.

John sighed. "Why, why of all places here?" He thought it would be too stupid not to get in there, anyway it's not like he had brilliant memories of this place. He stood in front of the door, thinking if it was a good idea. Finally, he entered and took the seat by the window, he liked the view of it.

He remembered the cab standing in the street across them, he remembered how he killed the driver to solve the case, well, it hadn't been to solve the case, it was because Sherlock was in danger, he killed him _for_ Sherlock, but sure, he wasn't his friend, he didn't have such thing as friends.

_Fuck you, Sherlock_ \- He thought.

Angelo came to the table. "John! What a nice surprise! Where's Sherlock?"

John frowned. "Oh, he is at the apartment, he was... too busy, working on a case."

"Is he okay?"

"Sure, sure, he is fine, he is okay."

"Are you guys okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you don't look very happy, and the way you talk about him, did you guys break up?"

John sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you! I'm not... We're not..." Angelo was looking at him with a tiny smile drawing in his face, he winked. John knew it was pointless. He was tired of people assuming they were a couple. Always the same thing. "Anyway, we're fine, we're okay, he just wasn't feeling hungry".

"Oh good, I'm glad. So, do I bring you the usual?"

"Sure, thanks."

He took his phone and called Mike. "Hi Mike"

"John, hi! how are you?"

"Good, good, hum, listen, I need to ask you a little favor, please."

"What happened? Is everything okay?"

"Yes it's fine but... Would you mind if I stay at your place tonight? Just for this night, please."

"Is there anything wrong with Sherlock?"

"No, you know, just a little fight"

"Problems in paradise?"

"WE ARE NOT...! Never mind, can I stay please just for tonight?"

"Oh, okay, sure, no problem at all."

"Thanks, mate".

John barely touched his food, he wasn't hungry anymore, the anger was bigger. Somehow, sitting there just made things worse, he couldn't stop thinking about the fight, he was so hurt.

\------------

 

As soon as Mycroft entered to his office he called his assistant Anthea, he was starting to get worried, very very worried about Sherlock getting those messages, he remembered what she had done last time, almost leaving a hole in the wealth of England. Her comeback could only mean trouble for him and his job.

Without looking at Anthea, he just said: "Bring me the photos we have from Irene's murder"

And so she did, he looked at them carefully, tried to remember the mental image he had of her. The woman in the picture looked so much like her, but it was _not_ her, how didn't he realize of the mistake he made? Then he remembered: his brother was behind this, he fooled him, he always does that.

He tried to cover his anger with an empty, meaningless smirk: "Anthea, I need you to put me in contact with the head of security at the Palace. Now."

"Is everything okay, sir?"

"No it's not, but it's not your business either, so please call them now."

She called them and in a second and transferred the call back to Mycroft's office.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Sprud, it's me, Mycroft."

"Good evening Mycroft, what's the reason of your call?"

"I need to tell you something very important. Do you remember Irene Adler?"

"Of course I remember her. She made my life a mess, good thing she is gone isn't it?"

"Not quite."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr. Sprud I need you to believe my words, and promise me you'll do as I say."

"Dear lord, what is it now Mycroft?"

Mycroft felt nervous, it was a weird feeling coming from him. "She... She is not... dead, and she is... back, apparently"

"What? She is back? That's so stupid Mycroft! How could you possibly know?"

"Because I do!, I just do! now please, tell everyone from security, and all the people you know who were involved with her. We have to be very careful."

"Do you have any proof of what you just told me?"

"I'm afraid the woman in the pictures we were sent is not her, sir."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Mycroft, we believed in that evidence for three years, _three years_ , and now you're telling me that it's all fake and that she is back and ready to tear down the government? Are you aware of the accusation you are making and how serious it is?"

"Yes, I am, and you have to trust my words, please. It was my mistake as much as it was yours, so both of our jobs are in danger."

"Do you have any plan?"

"No, I don't, but I'll come up with something"

"We need to find her and make sure we kill her this time, Mycrot."

"We sure will".


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Harry Watson?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is here! This one is considerably longer than the other two already posted, and in my opinion, is far much more interesting! A very particular character is arriving: Harry Watson! Well, this is exactly the way I imagine Harry Watson is like. Chapter 4 could take a while to upload because I won't be around very much next week, but enjoy this one! This is getting exciting! ;)  
> Thanks to everyone who has left comments/kudos. Lots of love x.

John came back early the next day, he was feeling better, still hurt, but far more relaxed, at least he could face him now. He entered the apartment and caught Sherlock sitting in the living room, touching his violin without playing it. He didn't look up. John took a deep breath.

"Morning"- John said with effort. Sherlock looked at John and smiled, an expression that really confused John.

"Oh, Hello, John! it's good to see you here."

"Don't you have anything to say?"

Sherlock looked at him clueless: "Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe you forgot to say something"

"Oh yes! Lestrade just called, there's been a murder. We have to be at Scotland Yard in twenty minutes" -Sherlock grabbed his coat and went towards the door.

John stood in front of him, in a mix of confused but sarcastic expression " _What?_ "

"What?"

"Just like _that_?"

"Yes, he just said that, now let's go, we're late." - Sherlock said as he left.

John was angry, but not surprised, this was what Sherlock always did. He thought it was useless to argue, and he couldn't deny he loved solving crimes with his best friend.

"Damn it! He always wins!"- John stood up and left.

On the cab there was some awkward silence, Sherlock was thinking and John was still too angry to say anything.

Sherlock broke the silence when he looked at John: "Okay, you're angry."

John was looking at the window but as soon as Sherlock spoke he faced him: "What did you say?" -John asked distractedly.

"You're upset about something, what happened?"

John smirked: "What happened? _What happened_?! That's what I'm asking you Sherlock!, how come you don't have any friends but you're taking me to Scotland Yard?, what am I, then?"-John felt another rush of anger similar to the one he felt the day before, Sherlock was unbelievable.

Sherlock thought in his words for a moment. "Oh, that, yeah, well... I..., I was angry John, I didn't mean it, I'm... Sorry. Please, forgive me, I know it was something stupid to say."

"Yes, Sherlock, it was! It was something really stupid!"- John had so much more to say but he didn't know how to do it, so he just stood silent, as Sherlock looked at him.

"And I _am_ sorry, but come on, you couldn't believe it was true, did you?"

"How couldn't I? The way you said it, it just..."

"Look, I was feeling confused and annoyed. I think it's no secret for you that Irene's message took me by surprise. But, of course you are my best friend, John, I think it's obvious"

"It's not so obvious to me."

Sherlock smiled at John and he needn't say anything, he knew John forgave him. He felt better, like he had taken a weight off his shoulders. They stood silent for the rest of the ride, but the awkwardness was gone, they were so comfortable with each other's company, that they were afraid talking would ruin everything.

\--------------

"So what's the big emergency, Lestrade?"

"A woman was found dead in the Thames Dock, no signs of contusion. We couldn't find other trace of DNA, no fingerprints, anything. We don't have a clue. We talked to her family, she didn't have any known enemies. Oh, and there was a message written on his abdomen."

Sherlock looked at him, interested: "A message?"

"Yes, a message."

"Let me see the body."

Lestrade left. Sherlock smiled and jumped with excitement: "Yes! A Message! Oh we're dealing with an interesting assassin aren't we?"

John looked at him. "Sherlock, remember what we talked about? Timing."

"Not good?"

"Not good."

"Fine, let's go to St. Bart's then."

\------------

They arrived to St. Bart's morgue. When Sherlock looked at the body, his face changed from excitement to a huge and unpleasant surprise. He kept staring at the message in disbelief, he immediately knew it was for him: _I O U._

"Sherlock? Sherlock? Are you okay?". John was starting to get worried, Sherlock was standing in front of the body, he hadn't reacted, he was unable to say a word. He was in shock.

"Sherlock!". Lestrade shouted, Sherlock widened his eyes and looked at them, who were staring at him, looking very worried.

"Fi...fine, I'm fine, it's okay, everything it's okay."

"Are you sure? You don't have a clue on who could have left the message?"

"No I don't, but whoever left it, must be the murderer."

"You don't say". Lestrade said sarcastically. Molly entered to the morgue. She looked both worried and interested about this case.

"I knew this message was for you Sherlock! I remembered it the moment I saw it, remember? Two years ago, you were saying this over and over!".

"What? Sherlock this message is for you?" Lestrade said surprised.

"No it isn't, of course it isn't. That is absurd. The person who had left me that message before is no longer here." Sherlock stood there, looking at the body. The message was definitely for him, but he was too scared to admit it. He couldn't be back, not this again.

"And who was that person exactly?" John was looking at Sherlock, he certainly looked nervous, it was rare seeing him like this, something wasn't right.

"No one. Let's go." Sherlock turned and left. John stood where we was, confused and looking at Sherlock.

"Wait. Wait. _Wait_. Where do you think you're going? We need help with this case! Lestrade looked really annoyed, and clueless, and desperate to solve the case.

"I will. I just... I need to think." As Sherlock was about to open the door to leave, his phone sounded. It was the woman. He stopped for a moment.

"Sherlock is that sound coming from your phone _again_?". Greg asked with curiosity.

"Yes. _Again_. It hasn't stopped sounding. It's annoying." Answered John, he glanced at Sherlock, who was still standing in the door. Suddenly, he opened it wider and left.

John followed him until Molly stopped him. "John, why is Sherlock's phone doing that noise?"

"Well, apparently she is back."

"Who is?"

"The woman, Irene Adler. Don't you remember her?"

"Of course I remember her. But didn't she die, _twice_?"

"Well, I thought so too, but Sherlock started receiving those messages again two days ago, and he looks very affected by them, I don't know, I have a feeling this won't end well."

"Please, keep an eye on him"

"Of course I will, of course."

\---------

As John went out to the street, Sherlock was already gone, he had acted so weird, he looked worried, if John wouldn't know him better, he'd say he looked _terrified_. But he is Sherlock Holmes. He fears nothing. What could be so terrible? He stopped a cab and returned to 221B Baker Street.

When he arrived to the apartment, he found Sherlock in the living room, quiet, still and thinking as usual. "Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't move, he didn't look up at John, he barely answered. "Thinking."

"Oh God stop it, stop this and tell me right now what is happening! Because something is wrong Sherlock Holmes! Don't you dare telling me it isn't because it is, _it is_! If I'm your best friend then tell me what is going on!"

Sherlock stood up and looked at him. "Promise me you won't tell anyone." John nodded. Sherlock doubted for a second and started pacing down the living room. "Two years ago, Moriarty came in here and we had a talk. He said he wanted to solve our problem. Our final problem. He said that he owed me a fall. Finally, well, he managed to solve the problem, apparently, though it costed his life. Before the fall I used to find the 'I O U' message everywhere, John, everywhere, and it was driving me crazy. I don't know what kind of sick trick this is, but Moriarty can't be alive, he simply can't. He died. I saw him kill himself. It's just not possible."

John just looked at him, trying to process in his mind everything his friend just told him. "Why didn't you mention me anything of this Sherlock?" He couldn't help it, he sounded hurt, he knew it wasn't an important matter at the moment, but it was so important to him. He was starting to feel that effectively, he didn't have the slightest idea of who his friend was. He didn't know him at all. So many things he didn't know, so many.

"Because it wasn't important John!", Sherlock didn't look surprised, but did look annoyed, as if he was expecting more from John, more understanding, a bit of help, an advise, something, anything but a fight.

"It _wasn't_ important? How can you say that Sherlock! This man forced you to kill yourself, worse, he forced you to do it in front of me!. You could had, at least, told me what this man wanted!". John felt so angry, he didn't know why, he just wanted to shout at Sherlock for putting himself into so many risks, for acting so lonely, for not telling him anything.

"In that moment it wouldn't have been useful John, you just would have slowed things down. I needed you to think I was dead and you know it. I was protecting you!"

John stared at him, thinking what to say. He finally spoke as Sherlock glanced. "Protecting me? _Protecting me from what!_ From nothing! Stop using that as an excuse, you know that what you did was wrong, you think you can fix everything just by saying you're sorry! Well, guess what? Apologizing won't bring me back those two years of my life spent grieving your loss! Thinking about why you did it, visiting your grave, reading on the newspapers all the trash talk that they said about you! Going to therapy!". He instantly realized of what he just said and stopped talking.

"Going to therapy?" Sherlock looked at him, his green eyes fixed on his friend's. He looked surprised, he knew his fake death had obviously affected John, but he had no idea he had came back to therapy, he knew he used to take it before meeting him, but he never thought he would return, and less because of him. Sherlock felt so much guilt, he finally understood everything his friend went through during that time, and it was painful.

"You know what? I'm going to sleep, you deal with Moriarty by yourself, do as you wish, tell whoever you want. Good night." John stood up and left to his room. Sherlock stood in there for another half hour, thinking over and over again. He felt so much fault, so much pain. He didn't know how to make it up to John, he really had been a terrible friend, he didn't deserve a best friend like John Watson.

He got up and went into his room, when he remembered that Irene had sent him another message back at St. Bart's. He took his phone and unlocked it immediately, with curiosity.

_"I might have a surprise for you tomorrow. Good night Mr. Holmes."_

\-----------

The next morning, Sherlock arrived to the living room, John was sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper. As soon as he saw Sherlock he stood up. "Sherlock...hi...good morning". He was wearing a warm sweater with winter colors and Sherlock suddenly remembered: it was Christmas Eve, and he hadn't gotten anything to John, he had been very distracted these past few days, but he had also forgotten another important thing: John was talking to him. He felt a slight relief as soon as he remembered. He could still hear the anger in John's voice from last night's fight. They'd been fighting a lot recently.

Sherlock smiled at him. "Morning, John".

"I made breakfast, I was waiting for you to get up."

"Why?"- Sherlock couldn't help to ask

"Why what?"

"Why were you waiting for me to eat?"

"Because you should never eat breakfast alone on Christmas Eve!". John said with a grin and Sherlock couldn't help but smile too.

"So are we okay then?"  
"Yes, of course we are, of course".

John served the breakfast as Sherlock sat and started talking about a new case, it was surprising how he was avoiding Moriarty's message. He didn't want to think about it, though he couldn't help but think about it all the time. This was the only moment since the day before that Sherlock had found some peace, it was nice talking to John again, they both looked so happy, they were the best of friends, as if nothing happened.

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone sounded. The woman.

John looked at the phone lying in the table right next to the plate of half-eaten breakfast. He stood silent. Sherlock was saying something about the client, and he didn't seem to notice about the message, he didn't want John to know wether he cared about her texting or not.

John stood up as Sherlock talked and went to his bedroom, closing the door. Sherlock became silent since John moved, he was shocked in surprise. He looked down, unlocked his phone.

_"Staying at home for Christmas Eve?, let's have dinner."_

Sherlock stood up and grabbed his coat and put on his scarf. He remembered he had to buy John a Christmas present.

\---------

_"Good morning, brother dear"_

_"Oh, don't tell me now we're following Christmas traditions, Mycroft!"_

_"Of course not, let's leave that to ordinary people. How have you been?"_

_"What do you want? Do you need a favor? Did someone die?"_

_"This is why I love talking to you."_

_"Sarcasm?"_

_"Barely hidden. How are you?"_

_"...good, perfect, as usual"_

_"What's wrong Sherlock?"_

_"Nothing! There's nothing wrong with me! Why is everything always my fault?"_

_"Never said it was"_

_"Never said it wasn't."_

_"Anyway, I called to ask you, have you kept in touch with Irene?"_

_"What? Why?"_

_"I'm curious, I care about you, constantly."_

_"Oh please don't start with that, we're not becoming a happy family. Not now."_

_"Fine, fine we won't, but have you?"_

_"...nope. I ignored her as usual and she got tired and stopped texting. I only received two messages from her, she doesn't like to be kept waiting"._

_"Good... That's good. I'm glad. So, any plans for tonight?"_

_"I don't know, John keeps insisting on me talking to other people and having friends. Not really my area but I guess it's worth a try. I think Lestrade is coming and also is Harry"_

_"Harry Watson?"_

_"Yes. I've never met her before, John is going to pick her at the airport in an hour."_

_"Speaking of which, how are things going between you and John?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"How is your...friendship going? You fought the last time I went to your house"_

_"...Good. Good, as usual" ._

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yes, of course"_

_"I'm not quite convinced. Remember, Sherlock, don't get involved"_

_"I'm not involved in anything, now if you excuse me I have lots of cases to solve and your sentimentality is slowing me down and boring me completely."_

_"Fine, merry Christmas Sherlock"_

_"You hate Christmas."_

_"So do you."_

_"Fair enough. Merry Christmas Mycroft, give my best to mummy and daddy."_

_"I sure will."_

\------------

"This one's for you, Sherlock"- Greg said handing Sherlock the gift. Sherlock read the card. _"To Sherlock from John. Merry Christmas"_. He looked at the wrapped present. A book, fairly obvious, probably about murders or anatomy. His favorite subjects. He opened it up. _Anatomy of a murder_ by Robert Traver. He was dying to read this book. He looked at John, who had his eyes fixed on him, expectantly. Sherlock grinned. "Wow John, thank you. This is... Thank you."

John smiled back, with a sigh of relief. They stared at each other, smiling.

"Oh God! Just kiss already!". Their looks turned to Harry, who was holding a glass of wine and looking at them with a suspicious look and a huge smile on her face.

"Cut it, Harry." -John said, taking the wine glass away from her.

Harry frowned, but kept smiling. "Fine, you can take booze out of me, doesn't make it less obvious."

"I'm sorry, what is so obvious?" John said looking at her with a confused gaze.

Harry's smile widened. "You _and_ Sherlock. How cute. You are like an old married couple, you know each other, you've seen him at his worse, you've seen him at his best. You would do anything for him. I'm sorry Johnny, it's just so freaking obvious."

"It's not so obvious to me."-John said, his tone turned into an awkward kind of voice. He was uncomfortable. He knew it was a bad idea bringing her to the house, but she had insisted so much on it, she was lonely, things with Clara were really, really bad and she looked so unhappy, he wanted to help her, she was desperate to meet this Sherlock guy John had been writing so much about in his blog, well of course she had seen him before, she read the newspapers and watched the news, but she wanted to meet him. He looked at Sherlock, who was so focused in his new book that didn't even realize about all the things Harry just said. Greg, on the other hand did. He just looked at them, speechless.

"Okay, so this gift is to John"-Greg said, trying to cut the tension between John and Harry. John took the present. " _To John_ ". He recognized the handwriting, Sherlock's, obviously. He opened it up. A sweater, a warm knitted sweater that fitted him perfectly. When Sherlock saw the sweater, he lifted his gaze to see John's face who was smiling widely.

"Thank you, Sherlock, did you pick this?"

Sherlock looked at him uncomfortable. "Well, you know, I thought you might like it and it looked like something you'd wear. I've always found your fashion taste terrible so this one was exactly made for you."

John laughed. "You don't like it do you?"

Sherlock smiled. "No, I certainly don't, but you do and that's what matters".

"Did you get me a present too, Sherlock?"-Harry said sarcastically.

"What? No. Sorry. I didn't know you were coming until last night."

"Oh it's okay, I know, I know, I'm not my brother"-Harry said with a smile.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" -John asked, regretting immediately of opening his mouth.

"It means... I don't count." -Harry answered, winking at Sherlock, who looked at her without understanding a thing.

"...it's running late. I should just go home" -Greg said notably feeling uncomfortable, things were getting really tense and he felt he was knowing more than he should.

"Are you sure, Jeff?" -Sherlock asked.

"It's Greg! And yes I'm sure, it's really late and then I won't be able to take the underground back home, but thank you, dinner was delicious, and thank you for the gift John, really nice from you. Give my best to Mrs. Hudson"

"Thanks to you for the gift, Greg, I'm sure Sherlock liked his too."

"...Nope. I did not."

"Shut it Sherlock!" John immediately yelled at him.

"Are they a married couple or what?"- Harry said, joining the conversation.

"They do look like one" -Greg said with a smile. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Harry."

"You too, _Graham_?"

"Greg!"

"Sorry. Greg."

After Greg left, Sherlock opened the book and started reading it with the same excitement as a kid with a new toy would feel, his face was lighting up, John looked at him from the kitchen, smiling, he looked so adorable. It was rare seeing this side of Sherlock, so he treasured the moments it happened.

"Could you be more in love, little brother?"-Harry came to him with a glass of wine in his hand, again.

John stopped looking at Sherlock and looked at her, confused. "What?"

"Come on John, I'm your sister, I know you, I'd never seen you looking at anybody the way you look at him." Harry talked calmly and softly, glancing at John.

"That's... Not... True, Harry. Stop it. Please."

"Don't worry, I won't tell him, it will be our little secret. But with one condition, promise me something."

"What would that be?"

"You'll let him know someday." -Harry said smiling widely at him.

"Someday, I suppose." John smiled, it was pointless denying it, his sister knew him really good.

Harry and John laughed when a sound cut the happiness of the moment. Harry opened her eyes and looked at Sherlock.

"What the hell, Sherlock? Watching porn? Seriously? Control yourself!"- Harry said very, very seriously. John tried not to laugh.

"It's my phone". Sherlock said, still reading the book.

Harry turned at John, confused. "Was it really his phone?"

"Yes, it was." -John said with a expression of anger.

"Oh..." -Harry said when the thought came to her mind. She looked surprised. "A girl. _A girl? A GIRL?_ "

"Yes. A girl."

"Is she crazy?"

"No. She is in love." -John said, sighing.

"With _HIM_?" -Harry pointed at Sherlock, looking at John with disbelief.

"Yes." -John's voice sounded sad, he tried to hide it but he certainly couldn't.

"Wow, I'm sorry John. I'm sorry, I didn't know." -She looked at him with sad eyes.

"It's okay, I suppose. Now give me that!" -He took Harry's glass of wine and drank it all.

"He's got you head over heels, doesn't he?"

"Shut up, Harry."

\------------

_"I think you'll like what I left in the mantelpiece. Merry Christmas Mr. Holmes."_

Sherlock stood up as soon as he read the message and went to the living room to check the mantelpiece. A red box, just like three years ago. He unwrapped it. It was a dark blue scarf, with a note on it. Sherlock took the note and put the scarf on: _I hope you wear it tomorrow night at The Landmark. We'll have dinner. Don't worry, just dinner. Hope you won't leave me waiting. Merry Christmas. -Irene._

Sherlock smiled and kept the note in his coat's pocket, when John and Harry arrived.

"Blimey! It's bloody freezing outside!" -John said as he entered.

"God, I'm so tired John! Where can I sleep tonight?"-Harry said looking at him suspiciously and with a smile.

"Sleep at my room."-John answered smiling back

Harry leaned closer to him and told him in a murmur: "Seize this chance. Don't blow it, idiot. I need to know all the details tomorrow."

"Don't be silly Harry! I can sleep comfortably in the couch!"

"SHERLOCK!" Harry yelled without listening to John.

"Hmmmm?" - Sherlock said on the other side of the living room.

"I'm staying at John's room tonight, so we were wondering if you had any problem with him staying at yours. You know, just for this night, are you okay with that?" -Harry looked at John, who just stared at her with a _what the fuck are you doing you bloody idiot_ face.

"Oh, Sure, it's okay. No problem." -Sherlock said, without realizing the nature of the proposition.

"Ha! I'm the best sister in the world ain't I? Good night, little brother, I bet the sweater will not be your only Christmas present from Sherlock!" -She said winking at him.

"God... Yes, thank you? I don't know what to say. I really don't."

"Goodnight, Harry." -Sherlock said looking at her, unaware.

"Goodnight Sherlock! I bet you will have hell of a night."

"Thanks?"

She looked at John, and murmured: "Don't. Blow. It."  
John smiled at her. "Hopefully, I won't."

\---------

John entered into Sherlock's room. He was so uncomfortable. This was weird. He didn't know what to say.

"Mmm... Thank you for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it. I hope this isn't too awkward."

Sherlock smiled. "It's okay. So, that's your side of the bed, this is mine, don't cross it."

"God, no, I won't."

"Good, then we're settled."

The thought came straight to his mind, he was going to sleep with Sherlock, in the same room, the same place together. He needn't anything else, he was happy just by staying at the same place as Sherlock, watching him fall asleep, yes, that was all he wanted. For now.

Sherlock took his pjs and took off his coat and his scarf before going to the bathroom to get changed.

John looked at the scarf. He had never seen it before. "New scarf?"

Sherlock stood still. "...yes. Present from Mycroft."

"Nice!"

Sherlock went into the bathroom and John took his pjs and started putting them on when he threw Sherlock's coat off the bed. He bent down to pick it, and he found a piece of paper on the floor. He picked it up. He read it: _"I hope you wear it tomorrow night at The Landmark. We'll have dinner. Don't worry, just dinner. Hope you don't leave me waiting. Merry Christmas. -Irene."_

Fuck, fuck this. Fuck Sherlock. Fuck Irene. Suddenly, he hated Harry for this brilliant idea, he hated himself for playing along with it, for picturing things that weren't there, that weren't real. But most of all, he was feeling nothing but anger towards the detective.

Sherlock got out of the bathroom. He found his coat over the bed and a note from John on top of it.

_"Changed my mind. I prefer sleeping in the couch. Good night."_

Sherlock went to the living room and looked at John with surprise, he had his eyes closed, but didn't seem to be sleeping, so he came closer, bent and whispered: "John?"

"What?"

"Are you sure you want to sleep here tonight? You're going to freeze!"

John didn't open his eyes. Sherlock's voice sounded so beautiful. But he was so angry. So freaking angry.

"Yes, I'm sure. I realized I'll be better here than in your bedroom, I'll be fine, thanks."

"Okay. So, good night, sleep tight. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock."

He opened his eyes and saw the detective staring at him, still a little confused. He looked at him, he didn't dare to say anything. It was pointless, he was going to have dinner with Irene. Ugh, that woman. She had ruined so many things. Finally, after staring at each other in what John felt was an eternity, Sherlock stood up, put a hand in John's hair while he stood in shock, feeling the warmth of Sherlock's hand, he could stay like this forever. Then, he turned off the light, went to his room and closed the door.

"Shit, I blew this up" -John could only think about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You tell me what happened!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is here! Sorry it took so long to update, but I was away and I didn't have time to write it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! This is getting interesting! Chapter 5 is on the way! And will be uploaded faster than 4. Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments! It means a lot! x

The next morning John woke up tired and uncomfortable. Every inch of his body hurt so much and he was lonely and it was cold, and in London's winter everything looked dark and it was 6 a.m and he wanted to keep sleeping but he simply couldn't. He was going on a date with her, a _date_ , didn't he tell him that women were not his area? Why was he dating her, then?

She wasn't ordinary, no, she probably was exactly Sherlock's type. Did Sherlock even had a type? He never thought about it, probably he did, and probably she matched exactly all his criteria. He had saved her life after all. Bloody hell, he saved her life! After all she had done. He saved her. He loved her.

He got up and took a shower and made himself a cup of tea. Harry got up and went downstairs with a huge smile on her face.

_Oh shit now I'l have to tell her everything._

"Good morning baby brother! Oh! A cup of tea! Trying to recover from last night's action?" She was having a huge smile on her face, he didn't even look up, he kept reading the newspaper and drinking his tea trying to hide his disappointment. "Come on, _come on John!_ Tell me all the dirty details! I want to hear all of them! Well, maybe not everything, but yes, everything!" -She laughed.

John smiled sarcastically, he was frowning and tried to hide his tone of anger, it didn't work. "Fine, _fine_ Harry, I'll tell you _all_ the dirty details!"

"Oh yes! How was he? Was he good? Oh don't tell me, it was his first time wasn't it? I should have known, he looks so inexperienced! Oh, isn't that adorable?"

John couldn't help but think about the night he left Irene and Sherlock alone at the flat. Why did he do that? _You bloody idiot. You huge huge dick. You ruined everything, it's all your fault._ Yes, he did everything with her that night, it was so obvious.

"I. Don't. Know. I. Didn't. Sleep. With. Him!!!" -the last word came as a shout and Harry's expression changed completely from utter joy to a sudden sadness mixed with anger, yes, she was definitely angry.

"WHAT? You backed out? Oh John! You blew your chance little boy! Ugh! I knew this would happen! I shouldn't have left early! I should have waited until you both were covered beneath the sheets and lock you up and hide the key somewhere you could never find it again! John, why did you do that?"

"It wasn't my fault." -he looked at her and a rush of anger came to his face.

"Oh!, oh! OH! Sherlock didn't want to! Oh he is such a virgin! Awww! You'll have to be a little patient then, but it's okay, don't worry, let him take his time" -she winked at him, and the wink only made him angrier.

"Could you please speak _lower_? You are going to wake him up! And no! It wasn't his fault either, well not technically, he is having A DATE!"

Harry bursted into laugher while John just stared at her confused. "A what? Oh John, don't play games with me! Which person, any _sane_ person would want to date him?" She pointed at the bedroom, and John paced hurriedly towards it, just to make sure Sherlock was still sleeping. Yes, he was in a deep deep sleep, god, he looked fantastic. John went back to the living room and looked at Harry with a frown. "I want to."

"That's because you are a little crazy. And addicted to danger. And you know him better than everyone else. But, which sane person would?"

Damn. She had a point. But the woman was the woman. She was addicted to danger too, she was a little crazy too.

"Remember the text he got from the woman last night?"

Harry shook her head. "Sorry, I was a little drunk by the time, I suppose."

"When you thought he was watching porn?"

"Oh yes! Blimey that was a weird sound, can't say I was a little turned on by that. It sounded... Good."

"That's not information I needed to hear, so I'll pretend I didn't and keep talking. Anyway, I found a note in his coat. She gave him a present and asked him to wear it in their date tonight!"

"You are checking his coat to find notes? Wow baby brother, you seriously have a problem."

"Shut up, I'm not some kind of psychopath" -Harry sighed noisily. "It wasn't like that Harry! I swear! And that's not the important part! He is going out with her! He is dating her! It was quite clear for me that I don't have a single chance."

"Wow. I didn't think Sherlock was the kind of person who... You know... Dates people. Sorry. Hey! But cheer up! It's about to get exciting."

"What is?"

"You know have someone to fight against!"

"Ugh, I don't know Harry, I don't know".

\----------

Harry sat in the sofa while John made breakfast. In that moment Sherlock entered into the living room, yawning. He was in his dressing gown. He looked good. Harry looked at him and then she looked at John with a smile. She winked at him. He looked at her with a frown.

"Morning, Sherlock!" - Harry stared at him. "Good night sleep?"

"Yes, Harry, good morning, thanks. Breakfast then?" -he said looking at John.

"Yes, breakfast" -he said setting the plates on the table.

"Oh, thanks John, I'm starving."

"I bet you are." -Harry looked at him suspiciously. John looked at her with a _just shut the fuck up Harry you've done enough_ face _._

"Sorry." -Harry said, Sherlock ignored her, and started eating. John sat on the table too.

"So, until when are you staying Harry?". Sherlock didn't sound mean, just curious, so Harry didn't take it as an insult.

"Just three or four days more, Sherlock, is it okay for you?"

"It's okay for me, not sure if it's okay with John."

John looked at him confused, "of course it's okay with me!"

"No it's not, you're thinking where you are going to sleep at. You had a terrible night. I told you so, John, you were going to freeze in the couch. Why didn't you stay at my room? It was perfectly okay with me."

"Yes, John, _why_?" -Harry looked at him smiling widely. John frowned at her.

"Because... Because... Because you need your space. And it's fine. Don't worry, I'll keep staying on the couch."

"Don't be silly John, you can stay at my room tonight if you want to" -Sherlock looked at him with a small smile in his face, he couldn't say no, he simply couldn't.

"Fine. Sure, I'll stay there tonight." -He finally agreed. Harry was smiling widely.

\-----------  
In the afternoon, Greg arrived to the apartment. John had been very attentive in case Sherlock would get any new message from Irene. Nothing, it was like he didn't care at all. Was he even going to attend to the date?

Greg greeted them without smiling, he looked worried, something was wrong. He looked at the detective very seriously. "Sherlock, we have another one."

"Another what?" -Sherlock said confused.

"Murder. Message. IOU." -Sherlock gasped, but tried to behave normally, his face was expressionless, he just looked at Greg and listened to him. "I need you to tell me everything about it Sherlock, we're dealing with a serial killer right now and we have to stop him!".

"I know nothing about it, I'm afraid."

"Don't lie to me, Sherlock. Molly said she had heard you speak those letters. What do they mean? Who told you that? Are you trying to help a killer? Damn it Sherlock! Tell me!"

Sherlock didn't say anything, he just took his coat and his (new) scarf, which John recognized immediately. "Take me to the body". He went out the flat. "John, are you coming?"

John got up from his chair and looked at Harry, who looked at him with eyes open, a small smile drawing in her face. "Of course you are."

"Don't get into trouble while I'm away. Please, no alcohol Harry. I'll be back as soon as I can" -Harry gave him a compliant smile as he stood up and gave her a kiss in the cheek.

She leaned closer and whispered into his ear. "You are in charge of making him forget about his dinner with the crazy lady. Don't let him."

"Don't be silly, Harry."

\-------

"Cut with exactly the same knife, a very thin, very precise cut throughout the abdomen, a knock with a blunt object to bring her unconscious. 5 stabs to give her hardly any time to survive. She died in three minutes. Yes, is from the same person."

"And that person would be?"

"I don't know. I seriously don't Lestrade, there is no reason for me to be lying to you and less to be helping a criminal who wants to kill people to leave a message. But I will help you find him, this is starting to get personal. Take me to the lab, we are going to try and find any signs of rust within the victim's body. I am as interested as you are to find out who he is." -Sherlock looked at his clock. 4:00 p.m. "Take me now!" 

"Sherlock, when are you planning to tell him about what you told me? What if Moriarty is back? You know this message is for you. This is dangerous."

"I don't know John, I simply don't, I don't want them to start looking for his body or interrogating me, I don't know absolutely anything. But I can't deny that I'm worried, John. I am really worried."

"Any clues?"

"Nothing, still trying to find something that might give us a little hint of the kind of criminal we're dealing with. But I think the lack of evidence describes us exactly the man who is behind this. But it can't be, John!, it can't!. I saw him take his own life! How can he be alive?" -Sherlock looked desperate, scared, terrified. It wasn't something he saw very often, and definitely he wouldn't wish to see ever again.

"You are alive."

"But I saw him die!"

"I saw you die too."

"I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_! how many times do I have to say it?"

"That's not what I'm trying to say! The thing is that as you had a perfectly planned fall, Moriarty could also have a perfectly planned suicide! He is not stupid! He probably had it all worked out! You have to be careful Sherlock, because if he is back he is coming to get you, and we can't let that happen!"

"But how?"

"You can work it out. You're as clever as it gets."

Sherlock's face looked sad, scared and thoughtful. "Moriarty is smarter. Obviously."

"Don't say that, don't give up when you haven't even begun to fight. I need you to be okay, Sherlock, I wouldn't deal losing you again, and I won't let that happen, but I need you to fight, I need you to find him, and I need you to defeat him and I'm saying it because I believe it. I believe you will, and I definitely believe in you. So don't give up, don't stop. Not ever, not for him, not for nobody."

Sherlock's face lit up and he stared at John, trying to process what was going through his mind. Was it real? Did somebody actually believe in him? How was that even possible? But John had said exactly what Sherlock needed to hear. He suddenly felt strong, unbeatable, invincible. He smiled at John. "If he's alive, he is going to regret it."

John smiled back at him. "That's the Sherlock Holmes I know".

\-------

It was 7:30 p.m. and John's attention was focused on wether Sherlock would attend or not to the date. He was working so hard, taking samples from the body, analyzing each one of them, determined to find its precedence, making his way into Moriarty's trap. He wasn't still sure if it was a good idea or not, but at least Sherlock had that determination John had missed so much, it had been over two years without seeing it, now it was as if nothing had changed.

Suddenly Sherlock got up, took his coat, his blue scarf and was about to leave. John got up and rushed into the door too. He stopped Sherlock and so did Greg.

"Where are you going?" Greg asked feeling angry. He needed to solve the case as soon as possible.

Sherlock hesitates for a moment, caught off guard. "Out... Need to... Think."

"Oh no no no! You're staying! Sherlock I need to solve this and you're just going to walk away and don't come back and I won't let that happen!"

Sherlock looked at Greg with a frown. "John, help me out in here!"

"I'm with Greg in this one. This is very serious Sherlock, and you can't just walk away. No."

Sherlock stared at him in disbelief. Then he looked at them silently, John could see his face was filling with anger, that was not something good. "LET ME GO!"

Greg took him and pushed him slowly back to his seat. "No way, you're staying Sherlock. Find me the criminal and I shall leave you in peace."

"I'M NOT SOLVING ANYTHING IF YOU DON'T LET ME GO!"

John looked at him very seriously. "Fine, then leave! But you will never find out who the murderer is or what he wants from you, and the next thing you know from him there will be a gun pointing at your brain and you know it Sherlock! You know the criminal we're dealing with!"

"But I can come back tomorrow!"

John looked at him with curiosity. "Why do you want to leave exactly right now?"

Sherlock sighed noisily and sat back in his chair. "No reason... I just wanted to take some fresh air, that was all. But sure, I'll stay." -He said as he sat back, John smiled.

For the rest of the night, John kept looking at Sherlock, who was checking his phone every five minutes. Finally, he got up feeling upset and yelled at the detective. "Bloody hell Sherlock! What is the goddamned problem? Why are you looking at your phone every second? Who are you so desperate to talk to?" -of course John knew, but he wanted to hear it from Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at him confused. "I don't want to message anything to anyone! Nothing!"

"Fine, then you would be perfectly fine if I took your phone." -John looked at him with a suspicious and challenging look.

Sherlock opened his mouth and then closed it and tried to look natural. "Why would you do that?"

"So you can focus on the case."

"You know what? do as you wish, if you want to take it, take it, I don't care."

"Good, then I will."

At 9:00 p.m. Sherlock's phone vibrated inside John's pocket. He took it out and keeping an eye on Sherlock so he wouldn't find out, he read the message: " _I'm disappointed Mr. Holmes. I was wearing my finest disguise just for you. You won't escape from me that easily. Good luck. X_. "

_Good luck to you, bitch._

\----------

Later they finally decided to go back to the apartment, where Harry was expecting them. She was holding a glass of wine in her hand. She looked positively drunk. Sherlock entered to the living room while John locked the door.

Harry almost shouted. "Sherlock, darling! How was your date?"- as soon as John heard that he ran up the stairs. Fuck.

"My _what_?" -Sherlock looked surprised. "How did you know about it?"-John looked at Harry with a huge anger drawing in his face.

"Your date, Sherlock, I heard that you were going out with a girl. I want to know it all!"-she was too drunk to realize all the things she was giving away.

"How... Did...You.... Know?"

John took courage, and with a deep breath he answered. "I told her."

Sherlock looked at him immediately, frowning. John knew how much it pissed the detective whenever he got into his business, especially with anything related to the woman. This was not looking good. Sherlock articulated his words slowly, with a growing tone of anger. "You knew? You knew and you didn't let me go!"

"Look, I'm sorry, but I did it for your own sake, Sherlock. I meant what I said, you need to focus on defeating Moriarty, and she was distracting you." Sherlock didn't say anything. He just frowned and went to his room, shutting the door closed noisily.

"Harry!"- John's anger directed towards her.

"Yes, baby brother?" -She was unaware of everything that had happened.

He exploded. "Stop drinking! Just stop it! Stop it now! I'm tired of this! You coming and getting me intro trouble and ruining everything! I've just had you in here for 24 hours and look at all the mess you've made! I knew this was a bad idea! I bloody knew it! I regret the moment I invited you in here for Christmas thinking you would change. I was so wrong. You never change. You will always be an alcoholic, a lonely person, a lousy sister!." -He stopped when he realized of all the horrible things he just said to her. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she was fighting to hold them and not start crying. She couldn't.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry, please, forgive me. I was just angry and I was feeling emotional because of Sherlock, but you are the best sister. Please, forgive me."

Harry looked up at him. She was still crying. She looked a little less drunk, but incredibly sad. John felt so much guilt. "No John, you're right, I'm sorry, I've ruined everything, I'm nothing but a drunk idiot who hates to see people happy, and I'm a terrible sister too, don't worry, I'll leave tomorrow, if I could, I would be leaving tonight."

"No please Harry, please stay, I've enjoyed so much your stay, I need you, please, things are weird enough with Sherlock right now, they would be even worse without you around. I need your advises. I need you to help me make things better. Please."

"Are you sure, Johnny?" Harry's face was starting to light up a bit.

"Of course I'm sure, Harry!"

"I'm sorry for ruining everything with Sherlock."

"It's okay, it wasn't your fault. I was an idiot. I was the one who ruined it all. You're right, I'm head over heels for him. I didn't think things quite clearly."

"So he didn't see her?"

"We didn't let him, but he definitely wanted. He was desperate. It was horrible."

"Wine?"

"Yes, please."

\----------

It was almost 3 in the morning when Harry finally stood up with a lot of effort, looking at John, who was laying in his chair, half-sleep. God, they both were so drunk, but they hadn't talked like that in ages, they were like old friends. Harry was so happy of getting to know his brother so much better.

"John, John! Wake up!"

John barely opened his eyes. He mumbled something that Harry didn't understand and closed them again. "JOHN! FOR GOD'S SAKE WAKE UP!"

He spoke lazily, slow and in a confusing tone. "Whaaaaaat?"

"I'm off to bed. You can't stay here, you're going to freeze!"

"I'm fine, I just want to sleep a bit. Yes a bit of sleep. No, no, I'm not going anywhere, just a bit of sleep. That's all I need."

"Shut the fuck up for a moment and let me talk. You can stay in my room."

"No no no, I'll stay here. Here is good. Upstairs bad."

"Come on Johnny! Let me take you to your bedroom"

John finally opened his eyes properly and looked at Harry, now looking surprisingly awake, with a smile drawing in his face. "No Harry, I know exactly where I'm going." He stood up. Fell on the chair. Then stood up again.

"Oh no, no, no, you're not going there, that's a huge mistake, do you hear me? A huge one!". He was already walking to Sherlock's room. She grabbed him by the arms, but she couldn't move him. She finally gave up trying.

"Fine! You know what? Do as you like! Good luck with that!". John didn't look at her and opened Sherlock's door loudly.

"Bloody hell, this is not going to end well." Harry went upstairs.

\------

"John?"-Sherlock hadn't been able to sleep. It was too loud outside and he was angry and there was so much smell of alcohol filling the environment. He turned as soon as he heard the door open and barely saw John, who was struggling to stay still without falling. "What are you doing here?"

"You asked me to stay here tonight, it's cold outside and I want to stay here tonight." -John sounded drunk, but determined, he didn't hesitate to answer.

"That was before."

"Before?"

"Before you got into my business. You know I hate that, John. I really do."

"And I _am_ sorry. But I was protecting you, Sherlock."

"Protecting me from what?"

"From her. She hurt you so much the last time. And you saved her. And you care about her, and you love her. And she loves you and you'll get married and have children. And I'll stay here alone."

"I don't... Love her."

"Can I stay here, please?"

"...fine."

"Okay... Fine, great, good, wonderful... I mean, Are we okay then?"

"I'm not sure yet."

John got inside the bed. It was so warm, and he could smell Sherlock's cologne. It smelled delicious. It smelled like him. He was barely aware of the fact that he was sharing the bed with Sherlock. The detective, on the other hand, moved further from him, keeping his distance. John hated that, he wanted to be closer and closer. He felt so far away from him.

"Good night Sherlock" -he was feeling a little less drunk.

"Good night, John."

\------

Sherlock woke up the next morning really early, hearing John's snores. He didn't have too much sleep, but he had to admit that since John got inside the bed, he slept calmly and deeply. It was warm, it was good. John had left Sherlock's phone on the table of the kitchen, so he went and took it, and felt slightly angry at him again. There was a message from Irene: " _I'm disappointed Mr. Holmes. I was wearing my finest disguise just for you. You won't escape from me that easily. Good luck. X._ "

Sherlock felt mad again, but started thinking about it and realized it was probably for the best. Maybe it was a terrible idea to play those games with her again. He didn't care about her. He didn't even know if it was her, it could be anyone, except it _did_ sound like her. He could smell her perfume, it was still seared into his mind.

He received a text from Greg. " _Anything new, Sherlock?"_

" _I'll be in St. Bart's later. See you there. -SH."_

He thought about waking John and asking him to come with him, but he was sleeping so deeply, plus he would have a huge hangover so he wouldn't be helpful at all. An hour later, he was on his way to the hospital.

\------------

The sound of the door closing woke John up, his head ached, his stomach was revolving horribly and making terrible sounds, he felt as if he was going to throw up, he was thirsty and tired and was sleeping in Sherlock's bed. _What? When did this happen?_

He looked around, not a single sign of Sherlock there. He looked beneath the sheets. He was still dressed, so nothing happened. Still, he was there. Sherlock was incredibly mad at him, so how did he convince him? Did he kiss him? Did he give himself away? Did he tell him that he was desperately and hopelessly in love with him and that the simple thought of seeing him with Irene made his stomach twist even harder? He was terrified.

He got up and he felt worse. He got out to the living room. "Sherlock? Sherlock are you here?" -nothing. He needed to talk to him so badly, he needed to know if he messed up. He shouldn't have gotten drunk.

Harry went out of his bedroom and looked even worse than John. As she looked at him she opened her eyes widely and made a very, very worried face.

"Tell me what happened last night right now!"

Blimey. Harry knew something.

" _You_ tell me what happened!"

"You went into Sherlock's bedroom! You looked so calm and cool and I honestly thought you were going to tell him everything about your feelings, but I couldn't stop you! I've never heard you more determined. Now you tell me what happened when you got into that room!"

"I don't know, I don't remember! I'm trying but I can't remember a thing! Everything is a blur. Harry, I need to know what I told him, I _need_ to."

"I'll ask him when he gets home. Where is he by the way?"

"I don't know, but I hope he takes his time to come back because I wouldn't be capable of looking at him right now, I would probably pee."

"Don't worry. I'll talk to him."

\--------------

It was 1 p.m and John and Harry were still feeling pretty bad. They looked terrible, too. They were playing cards without much talking, John was still wondering where Sherlock might be, but he tried not thinking about it, because he couldn't stop wondering what he had possibly said. He heard a noise downstairs and thought he was back. He felt incredibly nervous and anxious, he was dying to talk to him. It was most definitely Sherlock.

Somebody opened the door. John looked at it. He opened his mouth and let out a gasp. It was her. Irene Adler was standing in front of them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is an us now?"

What the hell was she doing there? How did she dare? He was surprised, angry and thoughtful. She stood on the door, she was alone, probably a car waiting for her outside. She was in a black dress, with the red lipstick and the characterization of the dominatrix. Yes, she was coming for Sherlock. Hair perfectly and carefully done. Checking her phone, she barely looked at John.

"Sorry, the door was open. Good afternoon, Dr. Watson. Nice to see you again."

Harry stood up and walked directly towards her. "I don't think we've met, Harry Watson". She shook her hand. John got up immediately and walked to Harry to cut her off. "Harry don't you even dare! She is dangerous."

"Listen to him, I'm the one who is dangerous. Irene Adler, huge pleasure." She winked at Harry, who just stared at her, dazzled. She wasn't the first one to fall for Irene. But John couldn't let it happen, not her.

"What are you doing here?"

"I had an appointment with Mr. Holmes last night..."-She stopped for a moment trying to read John's expression, but he didn't look surprised at all. "...and he didn't show up, I was worried, I came here to check if he was okay."

"Well, he is, thank you for stopping by. I'll tell him you came. Goodbye." -John went to the door, and pointed at it, expecting Irene would leave. She didn't move.

"Where is he by the way?"

"Why did you start writing to him again?"

"Jealous again, Dr. Watson?"

"Of course not, just... Worried."

She chuckled. " _Worried_? About what?"

"He might have forgotten about what you did, but I didn't, and you coming back is not a good sign. You bring trouble miss Adler. Everywhere you go, you call for problems, and I want us to stay away from them as much as we can"

"Oh, there is an _us_ now?"

John hesitated. "No, there is not an us."

"Then I suppose you would be perfectly fine if I ask him out once again."

John tried very hard not to shout at her. He was angry, and yes, he was jealous. "What do you want from him? What now? Why now? Why here?"

"I just want to see him again. I need to see him again. I've missed him. I want to thank him. He saved my life."

John didn't reply, he just looked at her in disbelief. It was so hard believing in her, how could she love someone like Sherlock Holmes? He didn't have a good feeling about it.

In that moment they heard a noise downstairs, they both looked at the door. After a few steps, Sherlock appeared in the door, looking down. "John why is the door open? You know we shouldn't..."

He looked up and saw her. She smiled at him. He didn't say anything. He didn't move, his expression didn't change. "Good evening, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock didn't answer. He stared at her without even blinking. He looked so confused. "Mr. Holmes?" -Nothing. "MR. HOLMES!"

Sherlock finally reacted, he opened his eyes widely and looked at her in disbelief. "Wh...what... What are you doing here?"

She smiled. "I need to talk to you. In private."

John looked at them and frowned. "No. We're not leaving."

Sherlock looked at him. "John."

"We are not leaving!"

"Fine, we'll talk in my bedroom then!"

They went into the room. John sat down clenching his fists. He looked at Harry, his face was red, completely red with anger.

"Shit, they are in his bedroom, TOGETHER!"

"Well done baby brother, she must be taking his clothes off by now."

John looked at her with a _shut up or I will skin you face_. Harry's smile vanished. "Sorry, wrong time. Don't worry, nothing will happen. We'll spy them from here _."_

\------

Sherlock offered Irene to sit in the chair in front of his bed. He sat down across from her. "So, what did you need to talk about?"

"You. How have you been?"

"Good. I suppose."

"I was worried about you. I heard about the fall. John must have been heart broken. I was. Then I found out it was all a lie. You are a master in tricking aren't you?"

"It wasn't easy. I was away for two years."

"Oh yes, I've been away for three."

"What brought you back then?"

"I needed to thank you, for everything. For saving my life. Thank you, Mr. Holmes, I would be buried right now if it wasn't for you".

"Good. No problem, I suppose."

"I wanted to thank you _properly_."

She leaned closer to him. He could smell her perfume again, delicious. Their lips were so close. And she was coming closer and closer. He could see those green eyes, with the pupils dilated. He let go, but something stopped him. Suddenly, Sherlock felt it was incredibly wrong, he backed out and stood up.

She looked down. "Don't worry, I didn't expect you to accept. I know exactly what you are."

"There's another reason for your visit. You didn't just came by to thank me, obviously."

"Well, there's something I want to tell you. I need your help."

"Why would I want to help you?"

"Because it concerns you."

"What is it?"

"Your brother. I know that he has found out I am back, Mr. Holmes. He wants to get rid of me. The whole British government is looking for me. They want me dead and I don't want to die."

"Then why coming to me?"

"Because he wouldn't look here. He thinks you are definitely not going to accept my request."

"And which is your request, exactly?"

"I just need you to keep me undercover from your brother. Don't let him look at your texts, if he asks, tell him you know nothing about me, and please, please, don't let John talk to him. He wouldn't doubt for a second if it was about killing me."

"Why would John want to kill you?"

"Oh, you have no idea, Mr. Holmes. Do you?"

"Idea? Of what?"

"Wow, I thought things had changed a little with all this time being away, but I see they haven't. I don't know yet if you know where to look at. I still don't quite understand you."

"I have never understood you."

"And I doubt you ever will. Can I count with you? Please. You are the only friend I have left."

"Friend?"

"Well, yes, I consider you my friend, don't you?"

"I'm not sure if I would call someone who worked with Moriarty, who almost left a hole in the wealth of England and who betrayed me a friend."

"But those things are in the past, Mr. Holmes. Don't you think?... You saved my life after all."

"Why did you come back after all this time?"

"Why did _you_ come back after two years?"

Sherlock didn't reply, he just stared at her. She kept talking then. "...yes, for that same reason. I missed the danger, the adventure. I wanted to breathe London's air. I couldn't be away any longer. I was dying to come back."

"...but now my brother is rooting for killing you."

"...and I need your help. Please."

Sherlock hesitated for a second but then looked at her and without changing his expressionless face. "Fine. I'll help you."

\-------------

"What the hell could be possibly taking them so long?" -John stood up from his chair, after standing still in what he felt was like an hour. Harry had been telling him things to distract him, to stop thinking about storming into Sherlock's room, to stay in the chair, but he didn't hear her, he was picturing all kinds of things in his mind, all the things Irene might be telling the detective, all the things she might be doing to him.

"Stop thinking about it! Think of something else and for God's sake, don't you even dare to stand up from that chair because I know exactly what you will do!"

"I won't do anything!"

"Oh please John, I know you since you were a baby, don't lie to me, you are desperate to go to Sherlock's room and stop whatever thing they are doing!"

"I just want to check if Sherlock is okay! She is dangerous!"

"She is _hot_!". John looked at Harry with a frown.

"Shut up Harry, you're not helping!"

"Sorry, but she is."

"Yes, you're not the only one who believes it."

"Are you even sure he likes her?"

"Who wouldn't Harry?"

Harry didn't answer, she just stared at John, who was clenching his fists and smiling, but not in a _you're so funny_ kind of smile, more in a _I'm going to kill her_ smile, and it was scary.

Sherlock opened the door of his room and both went out of it. John stood up immediately, to check if he was okay. At least he was dressed. And so was she, which was even more surprising, given the way they had first met. Irene looked at John and smiled wider.

"I have to go, Dr. Watson. It was a pleasure seeing you again"

"Goodbye Irene". He shook her hand softly and didn't look up, he just stood looking at the ground, trying to ignore her, but he couldn't. She turned to face Sherlock.

"Mr. Holmes. Thank you. You'll be hearing for me, I can assure you that". She leaned closer to him. John clenched his fists hard. She came closer. John clenched them harder. She kissed Sherlock in the cheek. John looked at them, fists clenched, face as red as it could be. Harry was making an "O" with her mouth. Sherlock's expression didn't change at all.

"Goodbye Miss Adler."

She turned to face Harry. "And it's been a pleasure meeting you, Harry. Give me a call someday."

"I don't have your number."

Irene winked at him. "Ask Sherlock for it". Harry smiled and turned her face to John who was looking at her with a frown that could only possibly mean _don't you fucking dare_.

"Thank you. I think I might. Goodbye, Irene". She left. John looked at Sherlock. Still expressionless. Quiet. He wondered how was his pulse. He was dying to know. Probably elevated. God, he hated Irene. He hated her.

\-------------

 

"Murder!"- Sherlock said after being quiet for almost an hour in which he had stood looking at the window, thinking. Harry jumped, he hadn't said a word since the woman had left. Horror drew in her face.

"What?" -Sherlock turned when he heard her voice. He looked confused. He was surprised to see Harry's face, who looked terrified.

"Thinking. My apologies. Where's John?"

"He left an hour ago Sherlock! He said he had to go and buy food at the market because there was nothing to eat, remember?"

"Nope. Not useful nor important. Must have erased it from my mind palace."

Harry looked even more confused than she looked before. "Your what?"

"Mind. Palace. The place in my brain where I store any useful information which may come."

"Why a palace?"

"Because it's big."

Harry decided to change the subject, the opportunity was given, she was going to take it. "So, Sherlock, you slept with John last night..." She realized the best thing she could do was going straight to the point. Sherlock nodded, looking confused. "...What happened?"

"What do you mean _what happened_?". Sherlock's face looked even more confused, more lost, he seriously had no idea of what she was implying.

"Well, did he tell you anything? At all?"

"As you may know, he was drunk. Maybe you don't remember either, because you were even more wasted than him. I could sense it in the tone of your voice. He could barely stand still, I was angry at him, he apologized, then he fell asleep and so did I. I barely slept, his snores didn't let me."

Harry smiled. She was so relieved. So John didn't mess up, and yet he managed to sleep with Sherlock Holmes. She found almost funny the way Sherlock looked completely unaware of John's intentions, then she thought it through and realized of something that erased the smile off her face: if Sherlock was not aware of whatever happened between him and John it was because he didn't see it as nothing else: a friendship. Shit. Sherlock didn't feel the same for John, of course not, he doesn't feel like normal people do, does he? How was she going to tell John? Perhaps he already knows. Perhaps he doesn't care. Perhaps that's one of the reasons why his brother fell so hard for him. John would know. Nobody knows Sherlock like John knows Sherlock and Harry is completely certain of that. Still, that didn't help at all. If Sherlock wasn't in the same page then there was nothing to be done. She needed to find out more, to break the puzzle of Sherlock Holmes and his feelings. She was going to help. She really was.

"Sherlock, can I tell you something?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock looked unfocused, staring at the window again, thoughtful.

"Promise me you won't tell John."

"I can't promise you that, he is my friend. I can't keep secrets from him"

"Oh, don't come with that utter bullshit! You keep your plans secret from him and you keep that woman's messages from him! Promise it! It's about him, please, I need you to know."

Sherlock nodded and focused his gaze on her. "Go on, then."

She hesitated for a moment, then she decided. It was for the best. Sherlock had to know. "After John arrived from Afghanistan, he looked like a completely different person. Before that, he used to be joyful, he smiled a lot, he enjoyed spending time with me, he told me everything about his life, we were like best friends, you know? He was caring and giving and in general a beautiful person, but in the moment he landed back in England after all that time, I knew something had changed. I didn't figure out what, I just realized that even though John didn't die there, a part of him did. And that scared me, it terrified me to think my brother would never be the same, and worse, that he would be unhappy. He started going to therapy following our advices, he created a blog, nothing worked. But then you came. And it changed everything."

Sherlock frowned. He didn't know what to say, was it a good thing or a bad thing? Harry continued.

"He started seeing some excitement within life again, the smile came back to his face, he started writing on his blog, he talked to me regularly. Things had changed. And I was so relieved, because Sherlock, I don't know what would have happened to John if he hadn't found you. So I want to thank you, thanks, for whatever you did. You changed it all, you changed John's life. You made it better, you gave it a meaning again."

She stood quiet, waiting for Sherlock to respond. He didn't, he just looked at her, directly into her eyes. He looked confused, dazzled and surprised. Time kept passing by, he didn't open his mouth, nor stopped looking at her, so Harry continued.

"When you faked you death, let me tell you, it was hard. Harder than any of us expected. He was so affected by it, that beautiful and full of life smile had erased again, and there was nothing but pain. John said he was fine, but I know him better. He was lying. He was suffering, he had seen everything he had fall right in front of his eyes. He tried not complaining, not saying a word. But I knew better, when John is quiet, things aren't okay. But he had his own way of dealing with grief. It was like a flashback, seeing John in that state, wearing the same face he had wore the day he arrived to England from the war. He was lost."

Sherlock didn't say anything, he stopped looking at her and turned his head back to the window at the same moment she started talking about the fall. He still felt guilty, it wasn't enough to know John had forgiven him, he wondered, how was it even possible that he wanted to be his friend after everything he had done? He had been a terrible friend. But friends protect each other don't they? He was protecting John, of course he was, wasn't he? Everything Harry was saying to him was proving otherwise. John had never been more unhappy and it had been because of him.

"... Talked to him in a long time, and every time he called we ended up fighting, he didn't come back in here, he was everywhere, looking for a place to stay..."

Harry stopped talking when she realized maybe she had been to harsh on him, he still was turning his back at her, but she could tell, he was having some kind of emotional overload. Did Sherlock even know what an emotion was? Doubtful.

"...but then you came back, and things got better. I don't know what you did or how you did it, Sherlock, but he couldn't resist, he just couldn't, he missed it so much, he loved being back on the track again. He missed you. You changed him, and even though a part of me hates you for making him go through that hell during those two years, now you're back and my brother is happy and we talk again and it's all because of you."

"Because of _me_?". He finally turned and looked at her confused. Of course it was not because of him, of course it wasn't. How could he, Sherlock Holmes, help someone? Be useful? Be appreciated by someone? Specially by someone like John Watson. How?

"Of course it was because of you! You changed it all. So thanks. Yes, thanks. Thank you."

Sherlock opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn't know what to say. He still didn't believe it was because of him, it couldn't be him. They looked at each other in silence, in a very weird silence.

"Okay, this is awkward." Harry said, trying to light the environment, which of course, didn't work. They heard a noise downstairs, then someone coming up, then John was there, holding a lot of bags. Harry and Sherlock were still looking at each other. They both turned their heads at the same time.

"Don't mind me, I can handle this. I don't need help." One of the bags fell. Sherlock turned to look at the window again, Harry frowned and stood up to help his brother. They went into the kitchen.

"What the hell was all that about?" John looked at Harry very seriously, in a worried way, as if he was scared of what his sister might have told Sherlock.

Harry didn't change her expression, she just looked at the bags. "What?"

"This awkward silence, you staring at each other, shutting up when I arrived, for God's sake Harry, what did you do?"

"Me?"

"You are Harry bloody Watson as far as I remember. So yes, you. What did you do?"

"Nothing, we just talked."

John spoke louder, impatiently. "About what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Of course, what else could we talk about? Have you seen that guy? He only talks about people who dies and violin and bees and I couldn't care less. The only thing we have in common is you!"

"What did you tell him about me?"

Harry hesitated, then looked up at his brother and answered with determination. "Nothing, I just found out that you didn't say anything bad last night, you just went into his bed and that's all. At least that's what he told me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm very damn sure, John, I haven't drunk that much today."

"Don't even get me started on that."

"And well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to thank me?"

"Sure, sure. Thanks."

"Alright, now go and talk to that freak because you are the only one who can stand him without losing your mind."

"He is not a freak, Harry, he is just..." -he turned his face and looked at Sherlock, who was still turning his back to them, staring at the window without saying a word. What could he be so thoughtful about? He preferred not asking, he already knew the answer: the woman. "...different." -A smile drew in his face, he couldn't help it.

"Wow. Head over heels."

 

\---------

 

"I'm still a little hungover, John. I really want to sleep."- they had just finished eating and Harry, well, she looked terrible, she looked very tired and her eyes were lost. Still, it was very, very unusual from her to go to sleep so early.

"Blimey Harry, it's 8:00 p.m! Are you sure?"

"Yes. I have a terrible headache. I'm off to your room. Sleep tight brother."

She leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear. "I'll just give you some privacy, talk to him!" He looked at her confused, she gave her a wink. Of course she wasn't going to sleep, she was leaving them alone. She was the best sister in the world.

"What? Okay. Thanks, I suppose. Not sure yet. Should I?"

"Shhhh. Don't blow this again!"

"Fine, fine, I won't, I promise!"

"Goodnight Sherlock!"- she said very loud, Sherlock was sitting in the sofa, hands together below his chin. Thinking, as always. He didn't answer. She waved her hand at John and went into his room. He felt a little nervous. What to say now?

"So... Long day, wasn't it?"

"Clearly."

"What are you thinking of?"

"Nothing."

John took a deep breath and looked at him for a moment. He looked fantastic, even though he was focused, his eyes fixed on a dead point, and he was barely paying any attention to him, he looked beautiful. John loved looking at him, just seeing the way he gets lost from the real world. He could stare at him forever. But now he couldn't think about it. There was something he needed to know.

"So. The woman, she is back. How are we feeling about that?"

Sherlock looked at him, expressionless and confused. "Hmmm?"

"The woman. She is back. You talked to her. Remember?"

"Shut up, of course I remember, it's just that, should I feel something different? Is there any reason at all?"

"Well, she is back."

"I don't see what is the big problem with a woman I barely saw a few times coming back."

John knew better than that, he didn't believe a word of what he said. Not one. "You saved her life..."

"Preposterous."

John didn't want to argue, so he didn't went too far with that subject. Still he wanted to know what the woman had told Sherlock. "What did you talked about... You know... when she went into your room?" It was better to go straight to the point when talking to the detective.

Sherlock stood up and looked at John. "I'm really sorry John, but I can't tell you. I am sorry, really. But it's her business and you have nothing to do with it as far as I'm concerned."

It was about her. It was always about her. John felt angry, not because Sherlock didn't tell him, but because he was protecting her, again. "Fine, it's okay, don't tell me anything. Fine. I just want to warn you something: you are falling right into her trap. She has you exactly where she wants to. Do you even remember what she did Sherlock?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not falling into anything."

"Right, sure. Good luck with that. With her. Whatever that is."

They looked at each other without saying one more word. John looked angry, but Sherlock decided to ignore it. It was for the best. He promised Irene he wouldn't say a word. He was just keeping his promise. Sherlock sat on the chair again. John's eyes fixed on him. After a few minutes in silence, John decided to break the tension, sitting in his couch.

"Anything new, about the murders?"

Sherlock looked at him, and spoke softly. "Nothing. Anything. I've been thinking about it all day, I know nothing about it. I don't like not knowing."

"What do you think about it? Do you really think Moriarty is back?"

"I don't know John, I'd be lying if I told you that I hadn't considered it before, but it just seems so... Fake. I saw him take his own life! Why would he come back? Why now? Why me?"

"I don't know either, but we've got to figure something out, Sherlock. If he's alive, then he's coming, and he's coming to get what he couldn't last time. You."

Sherlock stood quiet for another long time, so John took a book and opened it. He was starting to read, when Sherlock's voice took him by surprise.

"How was it like, for you, these two years John?" - his voice sounded soft, very soft, in a very non-Sherlock tone. He tried to process it in his brain. No response. How was he supposed to answer to that?

He cleared his throat. "What?"

"While I was away, was it...hard for you? Did you...miss me?"

Sherlock was clearly having a hard time saying those words, anyway, it wasn't something John heard very often coming from him. Again, how was he supposed to answer to that? _Of course it was hard, it was hell. I used to get up everyday thinking what it would be like if you were here. Life turned boring and... Unbearable. Sometimes I didn't even want to leave bed, because somehow, in the exact moment you fell, a certain kind of strength I didn't know I had fell too, and it wasn't the same, I could try new things, find other jobs, get new friends, but nothing compared to having you around, to the happiness I had when you were here. Of course I bloody missed you, you idiot. More than anything, I never thought I could miss someone that much..._

"...yes."

_Did that 'yes' just come out of my mouth?_

Sherlock frowned and stared at him. Waiting. _Say something, Watson, for God's sake, say something logical, don't start mumbling like an idiot._

"Well... You said you had heard me when I talked to your grave. If you did, then you know I wasn't okay. It was hard, of course it was, I saw you die in front of my eyes and I could do nothing about it. I had saved a lot of lives, yet I couldn't save yours. How did you think I could feel? I wanted you not to be dead, Sherlock. I missed you, I missed solving crimes with you, I missed hearing you making your deductions, I even missed your blog. Somehow, it became harder, coming to Baker Street, I just had to get away from it. Too many memories, there was too much to bear, and I couldn't, I felt powerless. So yes, it was hard."

Sherlock looked at John without saying a thing. He just had his eyes wide opened. Finally, he opened his mouth.

"I...I...I'm sorry. John, please."

"I've had enough of you saying it. Yes, I forgive you. You know that. I mean it. The problem is that your apologies won't bring me back the two years we had apart. All that could have been, Sherlock, all that could have been."

Sherlock turned his back, and there he was, staring at the window, again, refusing to show any hint of vulnerability. "You are my best friend. You know that, don't you?... And I hated not being able to tell you the truth. Because you, John, of all people, are the person I trust in the most, and I've known it since the very beginning. I knew I could trust you and yet I've been a terrible friend, if I can call myself that."

John smiled. Of course he could call himself that. Not just his friend, but his best friend, and far much more.

"... And I missed you too. I missed you a lot."

John gasped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing.

They stood in silence. Sherlock was still looking at the window. Was he thinking about him? The words were flying in the air. John was savoring them. Sherlock had definitely never told him that he missed him. He thought about it, at least he was certain his best friend had died, so he was resigned to it, but Sherlock, he had to leave for two years, risking his life, breaking Moriarty's network and doing God knows how many more things, knowing he might never see John again, his stomach twisted at the thought. _He missed me. Moriarty's network wasn't destroyed, the woman was coming back, there's been two unsolved murders but none of that matters, because he missed me as much as I missed him._

Sherlock turned and looked at John, who was sitting in his chair, absolutely quiet, _thinking? He never thinks does he? What is he thinking about? I'm the one who does the thinking_...Suddenly, his phone made that sound, John frowned but kept his eyes fixed on some other place, Sherlock went to the kitchen for the phone. John was brought back to reality. _"I want to see you again, Mr. Holmes, someday I'll have to thank you properly, let's have dinner._ "

John was dying to ask him what the message said, but anything it may had said was going to make things worse. He was angry, she always got in the way. What now? He is going to see her again? Celebrate that she is back? Have dinner? Shit, he knew what having dinner meant, but did Sherlock even know? He turned and looked at the detective, still checking his phone, silent. Definitely, he was in love with her. But John felt something different, something had changed with that conversation they just had, he felt a sudden determination. _I'm not leaving without a fight._

He stood up, looked at Sherlock and broke the silence. "Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

Sherlock stopped looking at the phone and his eyes fixed on John. "Of course, of course you can."

John smiled, the woman could send him all the messages she wanted to, but tonight he was sharing the bed with him. Something she had never had before with the detective. Had she? No. Definitely not. "Good. Thanks. I'll go put on my pjs."

It was 10 p.m and John was looking at Sherlock's bed, terrified of getting into it. Last night it had been easier because he was drunk and he wasn't even aware of what he was doing, it was his subconscious talking. But this was different, he was actually getting into his bed, God, he had to treasure that moment.

Sherlock got inside the bed about half an hour later, keeping his distance as the night before. John hadn't fallen asleep yet, he was nervous, he didn't know what he was nervous about, but he was. Sherlock looked at John and flashed him a little smile. "Goodnight, John. Sleep tight."

John looked at him and smiled too. "You too, Sherlock. Thank you for letting me stay here." As soon as he said it, Sherlock turned his back to John and he could see nothing but the bump forming in the darkness. But that was enough, he was sleeping with Sherlock and that was all he needed. The cologne of Sherlock penetrated everywhere, and John thought to himself that this was probably what real happiness felt like. Minutes later, Sherlock was already asleep.

He was about to fall asleep when Sherlock turned and faced him. John opened his eyes and looked at him. Sleeping deeply, looking so relaxed and calmed, this was a view he could get used to. He looked perfect. His face was lit by the tiny glimpses of the street lights entering through the window. John took a moment to appreciate Sherlock's face. He caught everything he could with his eyes. And there was so much silence, all he could hear was the sound of Sherlock's breath. _God he is beautiful_.

John fell asleep minutes later, into a deep, relaxing and delightful night of sleep.

It was early in the morning when John woke up. Sherlock was still sleeping, his back turned at him again. He stood up from the bed to go to the bathroom, and he definitely wanted to go back to it. He did. He was going to wait until Sherlock woke up, just to see him, to watch him opening his eyes by his side. That was all he needed.

Sherlock woke up an hour later, he turned to face John, who was pretending to sleep. He touched his arm. "John, John!"- he opened his eyes. He looked at the detective who was looking at him with sleepy eyes and a tiny smile. "Good morning."-John smiled, "Good morning, Sherlock". Yes, that was definitely everything he needed, everything he always wanted.

\------------  
John was making breakfast and Sherlock was reading the newspaper when Harry went downstairs, in her pjs and looking still a little sleepy. "Good morning Sherlock, good morning baby brother!"

Sherlock didn't answer, but John turned to look at Harry and greeted her with a hug. "Hello, Harry!"

"What's that all about?". Harry loosened from John's grip and looked at him a little surprised.

"What do you say if we take a trip together?". John wanted to thank his sister for everything he had done for him, last night had been wonderful, and it had been all because of her.

"Together who?"

"Well, You, me, and...Sherlock?" He said turning to look at the detective.

"Hmmm?" Sherlock bent the newspaper and looked at the Watsons.

"Are you coming with us?"

Sherlock looked puzzled. "Where, exactly?"

"Well... What do you say Brighton?"

Harry smiled. "Wow! I haven't been to Brighton in a long time! I'd love to!"

Sherlock frowned. "Sorry, can't. Have to go to Scotland Yard later."

John felt a bit disappointed, but not completely surprised, he would have been surprised if Sherlock would have said yes. "Come on, give yourself a day off, you've been working hard enough!"

"You know better than anyone that I don't have time to waste. I have a case to solve."

"Do you want me to stay here, to...you know...help you?"

"Oh no no no, don't worry, I don't want to ruin the family plan."

Harry smiled compliantly. "You are ruining the family plan, Sherlock!"

John looked confused. "Why?"

"Well John, your husband is not going."

John looked at Sherlock, who wasn't paying attention anymore. He couldn't help but smile. "Shut up Harry!"

"Stop laughing then!" He couldn't.

"Are you sure you're staying?" John turned to look at Sherlock, who was unfocused, but returned his attention to him.

"What? Oh yes, yes. I have too much research to do, find my way into Moriarty's web."

"Sherlock, I want to stay to help you. I'm not going if you aren't."

Harry sighed noisily. "Oh come on Johnny! The guy can take care of himself, he doesn't need a nanny to look after him! I'll be leaving tomorrow and I want a plan for just the two of us!"

"We already did something together! We got drunk, very drunk! Remember?"

"Oh come on! That doesn't count, at all! Come on Johnny boy! I want to go to Brighton! Pleasey please?"

John had to admit the idea didn't sound that exciting without Sherlock, he wanted to go with him, even if that included trying to ignore his sister's jokes implying his love for the detective. He wanted to go with him. But his sister wanted to go, so he was going with her. He wanted to thank her for everything, whatever it was she had done to help him. "Fine, fine, get ready to go! We'll be leaving in an hour."

He looked at Sherlock, who was now in the kitchen, waiting for breakfast to be served. "Are you sure you are going to be okay?"

"Of course, I'll be fine, I'll figure something out to do while you're away."

\------------

"Harry, you ready?"

Harry went downstairs carrying a big and heavy bag. "Yes, yes, done!"

"What's all that about? Oh for God's sake Harry! It's not like we're staying overnight!"

"I know, I know, but I have everything we need!" She lowered her voice and leaned closer to John, "I even packed condoms and some lube, just in case" she winked at him.

John looked horrified. "Just in case of what, Harry?"

Harry laughed. "Oh you know! Maybe you find a cute guy who makes you forget about the weirdo!"

John looked at her with a frown, he sounded angry. "He is not a weirdo Harry!"

"Who knows, maybe even a girl who wants a one-time shag!"

"Oh shut up!"

"Well, maybe I'll find her, then."

"No sex! Just a one-day trip and a quick sightseeing, that's all we're doing okay? Are we clear?"

"Oh John, you are so dull."

"Our cab just arrived, come on!"

"Help me with this bag!"

"Oh no, no way, you are the one who wanted to carry condoms and stuff."

"Condoms?" They turned and looked at Sherlock, who was looking at them with a expression between a smile and a frown. "What for, exactly?"

Harry smiled. "Oh, you know, to inflate them, play sword fight and explode them."

"Shut up Harry!" John said trying not to laugh.

Then an awkward silence fell. Sherlock was looking at John, without taking his eyes from him. They didn't talk for a long while, and Harry finally decided to break the uncomfortable moment. "Well, our cab is waiting, so we'll better be off. Goodbye, Sherlock! Don't murder anyone while we're out!"

Sherlock smiled. "I'll try my best. Bye Harry. Bye John."

John looked at him with a smile. "Goodbye Sherlock, please, please, please, be careful. No drugs, no smoking, no drinking, nothing!"

"Oh for God's sake! I'm not a child! I will behave! It's just a day after all!"

Harry was making an "O" with her face. "Drugs?"  
Sherlock didn't answer, he just sat back on the couch. John smiled. "He doesn't like talking about it. Dark period of his life that hopefully won't repeat." They went downstairs.

"Did you see the way he was looking at you when I mentioned the condom things? Oh John, he was so jealous!"

"He was...not!"

"Of course he was! He didn't take his eyes off you, thinking which boy or girl will you shag today! Oh, I don't know Sherlock enough, but it was so obvious!"

"No, it was not." He smiled. He couldn't deny it had been something unusual of Sherlock to do. The way he looked at him, it was...weird.

\-------

Half an hour had passed since John and Harry left. Sherlock was sitting on his chair, thinking that he hadn't been alone in the apartment since he came back from death. He hated to admit it, but he missed John and despised the feeling of loneliness he used to treasure long time ago. How was that even possible? What had changed so much? What did John change?

He heard the door downstairs opening. Someone climbing up, and he felt a sudden happiness, he had come back for him, yes. "John, did you forget anything?"

"Certainly I'm not John, Mr. Holmes". Sherlock looked up, and his smile faded away. Irene Adler was there, and they were alone, and she looked... Good. She was wearing a long, tight and white dress, and The lipstick, that red lipstick.

"Wh... What are you doing here?". He looked puzzled, he tried to deduce what could possibly be a reason for her visit but nothing... He looked at her again. Nothing.

She smirked. "Well, since Dr. Watson is not here I thought I should pass by and see how you are."

"I'm fine, I'm good. Any other reason for your visit?"

"No, just wanted to see you."

They stared at each other for a very long time. Sherlock didn't know what to say. He couldn't deduce anything out of those green eyes. Was he in danger? Was she in danger?

Irene started talking again. "You know...what I missed the most about you were your periods of long thoughts without saying a word, trying to figure me out, but you simply couldn't, and I still perceive you can't."

Sherlock forced himself to talk and prove her wrong. "Who tells you I can't?"

She took a step front, towards him, leaning closer. "Your eyes do."

"How can you tell?"

She leaned even closer. They were still at a reasonable distance, but she was approximating to his personal space and that was making him feel uncomfortable. He smelled her perfume, Channel n. 5, the whole room was filled with it, it was exploding, breaking into his nostrils and sending confusing messages to his brain. She smiled. "Because I can see your pupils. Dilated. Busted, Mr. Holmes."

He couldn't resist the temptation, he leaned closer, he had to. He held her wrist. She kept her eyes fixed on him, without saying a word. He waited for a while. "And I can take your pulse, elevated. Busted, Mrs. Adler."

She smiled. "Let's have dinner. And I'm being delicate this time. Just dinner, I promise."

Sherlock frowned and broke apart. "Delicate or not, I'm not hungry."

"Oh come on Mr. Holmes, I'm starving."

He wasn't sure what to think. What did she mean with dinner? He tried to deduce it, but nothing. He looked at her, he smelled that perfume, nothing. "Why would I want to have dinner if I'm not hungry?"

"Because it's been ages."

Nothing.

\----------------

"Come on, Harry, please, please, tell me what you talked about last night!"

John and Harry were on their way to Brighton, and since they had taken the train, he hadn't stopped insisting on it. He hadn't shut, and she realized that it probably wasn't a good idea telling him how she opened up to Sherlock about him, because he would probably freak out and push her out of the train.

"You tell me what happened last night that had you so excited that you greeted me with a hug and decided to take a trip with me! That's not usual from you, John."

"I just woke up in a good mood Harry."

"Oh no, no, no don't come with these stories! You slept last night with Sherlock! You wouldn't have been so happy if you would had slept in the couch!"

John smiled. "Am I that obvious?"

Harry smiled even wider and looked very amused. "Oh my god! TELL ME EVERYTHING ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW!"

John frowned, but still smiling, he felt he could barely contain his happiness, everything was okay, he was happy, his sister was happy (which he could tell because 24 hours had passed without her taking any booze) and well... Everything was working out, wasn't it? "Come on Harry, it's not like we did anything" Harry shrugged in disappointment. "But it was... It was fantastic, brilliant, incredible."

"What was it?"

"Just waking up by his side, hearing his breathing, looking at him while he was sleeping deeply, it was beautiful to see him so...relaxed, so calmed, so human. I've never felt more at home in my life."

Harry smiled at him. "Aww, my little baby brother in love".

John smiled for a while, but then remembered what he originally had asked her and his face became slightly more serious. "But I need you to tell me what you told him, Harry. Anything it was what you said to him, it changed something inside him. I got to see a side of Sherlock I had never seen before, and I was dazzled and puzzled by it at the same time, and I know it was something you did, now tell me what it was, I'm begging you, I need to know."

"What was the thing he did that surprised you so much?"

John brought back to his mind the voice, the tone, the words thrown at him, being so beautifully delivered, and so happily received. The words that had made it all better. "He said he missed me."

"So?"

John looked confused. " _So_? You've heard him talk, Harry, he never talks about anything too emotional nor too personal, You know he doesn't work that way. It was wonderful. It was the biggest expression of affect, caring and selfless interest he could ever be capable of, and it was directed towards me. God, I'm lucky, I'm lucky to be missed by Sherlock Holmes." He smiled while Harry just looked at him in some hidden disbelief, so he cleared his throat and slightly changed the subject. "Now you answer my question, Harry!"

Harry thought for a moment, while John kept his eyes fixed on her. "Some secrets have to stay secrets, John."

John looked a little desperate, he threw his hands on the air. "No! No! Don't start saying all this bullshit! For God's sake, I need to know, Harry, I want to know!"

How could she say to him that she exposed him and his feelings towards Sherlock? That she was direct and crude and real and went straight to the point? That Sherlock was surprised and that she was confused because the detective had actually showed a hint of emotion? How could she tell him that? She decided she definitely couldn't, so she had to come up with an excuse and do it fast. "Jeez, you are such a drama queen!" -the only thing she could come up with.

She could definitely tell from John's expression in his face he was getting pissed off, very, very pissed off.

\-----------------

Sherlock didn't know what to think, he didn't say a word. to be fair with himself, it had been an impulse, and impulse he was only aware of when they were halfway to the restaurant. Irene Adler was walking next to him, both were very quiet, but not in an awkward silence, more like in a thoughtful one, a very real, crude and mysterious one.

He suddenly started thinking about it. It was a very stupid idea, she was putting herself in risk, Mycroft kept an eye all over London, he knew every movement every person made, of course he would find out he was with her, but he had nothing to be afraid of, she was the one who was threatened to be killed anyway, and if she didn't seem to care, then he didn't either, so he put the thought apart and tried to think of something else, to pass the time and don't feel forced to start up a conversation with her.

_I wonder where John and Harry are right now. Two hours, they're not even in Brighton and I'm already going to a restaurant with a woman I'm not supposed to be with. What would he think? He would probably get angry, he hates her after all, I'm still not quite sure why, I certainly hate not knowing. What is it so hatable about her? Why I don't seem to see it? I see everything, but I never know anything for sure when it comes to her, I've never known, and I don't think I ever will. Yes, John will be angry, this is a bad idea, why did I agree? How did I even agree? I can see it clear, his face, the disappointing drawing in it when he finds out, or maybe he won't find out, yes, I'll be careful, that's all, he will never know. Why am I thinking all this through so much? Why the sudden interest in John finding out? Maybe he's already having sex with someone and I..._

"It is physically painful to see you immerse in that sea of thoughts Mr. Holmes, a"lthough I have to admit I like to see you so focused, but I'd like to keep your attention elsewhere. We arrived about a minute ago and we stopped, yet you didn't seem to notice, what are you so thoughtful about?". She looked at him with excitement, like a mystery worth solving.

Sherlock looked at her, trying to find a suitable answer, it was difficult and it took him a while to try to put the thoughts away. "A... You know...Murder."

"Acting won't work with me, Sherlock, remember the first time we met? Pretending to be a priest who got stolen didn't work out at all. Not with me, I know you better than that."

"What makes you believe that you know me?"

"Let's get us in and we'll talk about it through lunch". She smiled at him and entered to the restaurant. Sherlock looked at it, a very not- fancy, not-expensive restaurant, definitely not Irene's style, not at all. Why was she so unpredictable? He entered too.

\-------------

Harry's voice sounded distant even though she was in front of him. He was lost in thoughts, not paying attention to a word his sister was saying. What could Sherlock possibly be doing? Was he okay? Still working on the case? What if he was in danger? He really should stop thinking, but he simply couldn't.

"Are you even listening to me?" Harry looked at John curiously.

"What?... Yes..." He cleared his throat. "Yes". He looked at her and realized she had talked for about half an hour and he didn't have any idea of what she might had said.

Harry looked at John suspiciously, but smiled, as if she was able to read what was going through his mind: Sherlock. "Sure, right, of course you are, you are definitely not undressing Sherlock in your mind". She winked at him and he rolled his eyes.

"That wasn't what I was thinking, Harry, for God's sake!" John smiled.

"I don't believe you, sorry."

"Why don't we just finish lunch in silence."

"if the shoe fits, little brother."

While they finished eating, John realized of how much things had changed since Sherlock came back. Somehow, for those two years he had been away from his life, he had gone back to that routine and normality he used to despise before, because he forced himself to do it in order to forget about him, but since the exact moment he saw Sherlock again he felt the blood pumping through his veins, he felt alive again. He know needed action, and without Sherlock, life was boring, everything was just too dull and it just seemed unbearable. He wondered what had changed so much. _What could Sherlock be possibly doing right now? Is he thinking about me perhaps? Of course not, of course he is not._

_"_ What are you thinking about?"

"A... You know... Murder."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's okay if you don't want to tell me, I'll find out... Eventually."

"Why did you agree to come with me today, Mr. Holmes?"

He didn't know how to answer that. Why did he do it? Nothing. He had no idea. It was an impulse. But he wasn't a man of impulses, then what was it? Why Irene? Why going with her? Did he trust her? No. He didn't, he definitely didn't. He would never trust in someone like her. "I... Wanted to have lunch."

"You told me ten minutes ago that you weren't hungry."

"I wasn't hungry back then, I am now."

Irene smiled. "Great. Let's have dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"What are you playing with me, Mr. Holmes?"

"Who said I am playing?"

"I am. Tell me what is this game, because I'm not following it. I'm risking too much just by talking to you, but I felt the need of doing it. And now we're having lunch, and now you're not hungry. I don't want to lose again, so tell me once and for all what is it that you want, just tell me and I shall do as you say, just... What do you want from me?"

"You were the one who came back. I never said I wanted you back."

"But, as far as I remember, you haven't said that you _don't_ want me back."

Sherlock was blank. He never said it, had he? Yet he was still wondering if he wanted her back or not. He considered all his options, he could have let her get killed, she wasn't his problem, she could have died for all he cared but he just couldn't let that happen. _Why_? He certainly had never made this question, he usually trusted in his instincts and that was all, but this was different, this wasn't something he usually did. Why was he doing this? Nothing.

Her salad arrived. He didn't eat, he just looked at her, puzzled. Still not sure of what to make of all of this, the situation was absurd, there was nothing usual about this. What could possibly be this?

She finished the salad. Looked at Sherlock, who was looking at the window, thinking, as usual. She smiled. "Let's go back to Baker Street."

\-----------------------

"Can we go now, please?" John was bored, this day seemed endless, and though he enjoyed Harry's company, he felt... Empty. Everything seemed dull and annoying and predictable and stupid and Sherlock wasn't there.

"John, it's just five! Come on, I'm having a lot of fun!". He wondered how could she be having fun, if he was such a lousy company.

"What it's so funny about this place?"

She looked at him and turned a little serious. "It's not about the place, John, honestly I couldn't care less about it, it's just that... I've missed this, all of this, walking by your side, making jokes, and being myself, I'm never afraid of being the annoying Harry I've always been when I'm with you. I know our relationship hasn't always been the best, but things have changed, _you_ have changed. He has changed you, and I have to thank him for it. It may sound a little silly, but I'm happy when I'm with you, John. It's like I needed this, I'm going through a difficult time, but I haven't drunk any booze in 48 hours, and I'm happy. And I'm enjoying this, even though you're endlessly bored and you miss your creepy detective. Do this for me, would you?"

John realized of how selfish he had been, he hadn't even realize his sister wasn't drinking, and she didn't look anxious, she wasn't hiding her sadness with a fake smile, it was her, the funny, relaxed, happy Harriet Watson he remembered but he hadn't seen in a lot of time, since they were kids, probably. And he had changed? Had he? At least he was happy. Yes, he was. "Of course, Harry, I'd do anything to see you happy." He said with a smile.

Time seemed to pass slower and slower, but at least his sister was happy and that was enough. But he missed Sherlock. God, how did he let this happen? When did this happen? When did Sherlock become such a huge part of his life, if not all of it? He realized it had been since the very beginning. Yes, he had changed since the moment he met Sherlock Holmes, everything had changed, hadn't it? He was happy, he lived now a crazy and ridiculous life, but a life that deserved to be lived. He embraced the adventure, and now he couldn't live a single day without it, without Sherlock. This was getting out of his hands. But he realized it already had a long time ago. 

\-------------------

"I love to see you lost in thoughts". She finally said.

Sherlock reacted and realized it was already dark, so it was late. He was sitting on his chair and looked at the woman, sitting in front of him, looking at him, smiling. He had forgotten she was still there, he had forgotten even what he had been thinking about all this time. "Excuse me, what?"

"I don't know what you're thinking, but you look... Sexy when you are so focused." She smiled even wider and leaned closer.

Sherlock couldn't articulate a word, he was... Confused? He wasn't even sure if he was confused. He was... Distracted. Definitely distracted.

"What did you do, all this time, while you were away, Mr. Holmes?"

"What did you do, Mrs. Adler?"

"I asked you first."

"Oh, I insist."

"I thought about you."

"Three years thinking about me... seems useless."

"It was. Now you, answer me."

Sherlock couldn't come up with an excuse. He was a good liar, but he didn't know what to say, he couldn't say the truth, that he had been trying to break down Moriarty's net, he didn't trust her enough to tell her, and he knew if he opened his mouth he would end up revealing everything, _everything_. He couldn't do that. He didn't trust her. But if he didn't, what was she doing in his apartment? Why did he have lunch with her? Nothing.

"Don't worry, we all have secrets, Mr. Holmes. It's okay if you don't want to tell me, I'll find out anyway, eventually."

"That would be tremendously ambitious of you."

"Oh, you underestimate me. I have my methods."

"Which are...?"

"I think you should know me by now."

"Oh I do. I just want to make sure we're in the same page."

"Deduce them. You are the famous Mr. Holmes, the cute detective with the silly hat. I hear you."

He stared at her. He still couldn't deduce a single thing from her. Why? He didn't have the slightest idea. He could see nothing.

  
Irene smiled. "I thought that so."

They stared at each other for what Sherlock thought was a long time, when Irene's phone sounded. She looked immediately at the phone lying on the table and ran to grab it. "Sorry, have to answer. I'll be right back."

She left the apartment and went downstairs, into the street. Sherlock went to the window and looked at her. She looked worried, as if bad news had been given to her. Generally, he would be able to tell what a person was talking about but he simply couldn't with her. Things were so much harder with her. Still, nothing.

She came back in a hurry, and picked up her purse, looked at Sherlock and smiled, trying to hide her very evident concern. "I have to go, Mr. Holmes. Please don't talk about this nor about me to anybody, please. I trust in you."

He barely had time to nod when she was already walking out the door, and just as mysteriously as she arrived, she left.

\---------------

About twenty minutes had passed since the Woman had left when somebody knocked on the door downstairs. Sherlock ignored it, as usual, because he was thinking. A louder knock. He didn't answer. Then, he heard in surprise as the door was forcefully knocked open. Two men wearing black suits went upstairs, armed. They started looking all over the apartment.

About thirty seconds later, Mycroft appeared on the door. He looked at Sherlock very, very seriously. His voice came almost as a shout. "Where is she?"

Sherlock stood up and looked at Mycroft, defiantly. "Where is who? Are you out of your mind?"

"You know exactly who, Sherlock! Now tell me where is Irene and I shall leave you in peace"

"Or what?"

"Don't try to get clever with me, Sherlock, you know I have a lot of power. Now, I shall repeat the question just once more, and I demand your answer. Where is she?"

"Where is all this sudden interest coming from, Mycroft?"

"Orders from above, brother dear. I'm only doing my job"

"So you prefer your work over your brother. What a stupid affirmation, of course you do."

"I'm protecting you too."

"Excuse me, protecting me from what?"

"From her! I know she was here Sherlock. You should have been more careful, you know I find out about everything. What was she doing here?"

"She wasn't."

"I have proofs that show it otherwise."

"You are spying me?"

"I'm _protecting_ you!"

"I'm not a child Mycroft! I don't need protection! And less from someone like you! I can make choices by myself! I'm the smart one."

"Oh Sherlock, when will you ever stop saying that? I'm afraid it won't make it true. Now where. Is. She?"

"I don't know, she wasn't here!"

"Oh really? So you didn't go out with her to have lunch?"

Sherlock stood silent.

"For God's sake Sherlock! I warned you, I told you to lose contact with her, hasn't it ever occurred to you that it was for your own sake?"

"Since when do you care about my own sake?"

They heard someone entering and coming up the stairs.

"Did you bring the whole British government to search for her in my apartment?"

"I'm afraid I didn't."

John and Harry entered to the living room, looking very confused. John stepped up, "I'm sorry, would any of you like to explain what the hell is going on here?"

Mycroft smiled and looked at his brother. "Go ahead, Sherlock, tell him"

John's expression changed and turned more serious than it was before. "Please don't tell me this is a drug bust."

Sherlock didn't say a word, he preferred John to believe it was a drug bust. After all, he was keeping his promise to Irene.

John looked disappointed. "Christ, Sherlock! I'm away for one day, one day and look at all the things that happen! What was it now? Cocaine? Heroine?"

Mycroft looked at John. "Oh no, John, I'm afraid you couldn't be more wrong. We are searching for something, indeed, but it's not for drugs, its another kind of addiction, it's for Irene."

John looked at Sherlock in disbelief. "I'm sorry, who?"

"Irene. Adler. She was here."

"No she wasn't." John sounded very convinced.

Mycroft looked at him with that same fake smile. "How could you possibly know? As far as I know you were in... Brighton, right?...with your sister. Sherlock stood here. Irene was here too."

"...no." John still found it hard to believe.

Mycroft turned to Sherlock this time, who was still silent. "I'm very sorry you couldn't tell me where she is now. I warned you, Sherlock. You know you don't want me as your enemy."

"Why not? You've always been."

"That's what you think. I shall go, I have no time to lose. I'll find her, Sherlock. I can assure you that."

"Well, good luck with that." Sherlock took his violin and turned to the window, playing a song.

Mycroft and the two men who had entered with him left as fast as they came. John was still confused at the scene. He turned to look at Harry, who hadn't moved an inch since they entered.

"I... Should go... Unpack... And pack. To leave. Tomorrow." Harry went to John's room and John stayed at the living room, wondering what to say now. He needed to say something, to ask something, to do something.

"Sherlock." -he didn't answer, he kept playing his violin. "Sherl... SHERLOCK!"

He stopped playing and looked at John. "Yes?"

John tried to sound as calmed and absolutely-not-at-all jealous as possible. "Could you please explain me what just happened?"

Sherlock frowned. "Well, you saw it by yourself, John."

"I did, I did, I just don't... Understand. Can you explain it to me?"

"Explain what?"

"This! All of this! Maybe start by explaining what your brother was doing here."

Sherlock turned to look at John and spoke incredibly calm. "He was spying me. What a stupid decision he made. As if I'm some little child in need of protection."

John decided it was best not to reply to that. Instead he chose to ask him about the other thing. "...and he mentioned Irene."

"Indeed."

"...Was she here?"

"That's none of your business."

"Well Sherlock, I believe it is, because this is my apartment too and you just can't bring people in without a single care"

"Why not? You used to do that all the time!"

"What?... When have I done that? Mention one time I did!"

"What was her name?... Oh yes! Jeanette! And the doctor was... _Sarah_?"

John was reminded that he actually had done it a lot of times. "Oh well, yes... But, you know, they weren't mean!"

"Who says Irene is mean?"

"You should know it."

"I certainly don't."

"Sherlock, she worked with Moriarty, remember?"

"John, Moriarty is only the consulting criminal. She wasn't working with him, she just...requested his services. That was all. Stop being so dramatic."

"Oh, I see, you are defending her and him now?"

"Of course not, I'm only stating the obvious."

"It's not obvious to me."

"Nothing is ever obvious to you."

"So what now?, your brother wants to kill her?"

Sherlock smiled sarcastically. "I think that's even obvious to you."

"And how are you feeling about that?"

"About what?"

"Her... Trying to be killed by your brother!"

"Should I care?"

John knew Sherlock was lying. He was an expert liar. He could act like he didn't care at all, but John knew better than that. John knew Sherlock denied the truth and that truth was that Sherlock of course _did_ care and was trying to save her because he loves her. Definitely, he does. "I think you should."

"Why?"

"Because... It's Irene."

"And?"

"She is the woman!"

"So?"

"Oh don't even start denying it Sherlock! Because I've known you for five bloody years and hell, I can tell that you're lying. So just don't. Don't pretend like you don't care, like she is not a big deal to you because she is, God, she is! So stop saying you don't care about her and admit it! Just admit it!"

Sherlock stood silent for a moment, thoughtful. "Will me admitting it stop you from making all this drama?"

John smiled a bit. "It will, I suppose."

"Fine. It _does_ matter to me. I _do_ care. Happy?" As soon as he said it, he turned towards the window and took his violin again.

Even though John expected it, hearing it from Sherlock's lips was harder than he thought. He felt his heart revolve. It hurt him to think about it, he never thought Sherlock would admit it. He wasn't happy, not at all. "Sure. Thanks for being... Honest."

If John ever needed a wake-up call then this was it. He realized of something that had always come to his mind but he tried to avoid constantly: he didn't have the slightest chance, not the smallest, not the tiniest glimpse of an opportunity of ever being with Sherlock Holmes. He had to get over it, to leave the hopes behind, to stop dreaming of things that were, well, improbable. No, more like impossible. Nothing was ever going to happen, ever.

 _This is it, John. Just stop it, stop this. You need to forget about it. You need to get over Sherlock. This is just a phase. It's time to move on, get a woman, be happy, keep solving crimes by your best friend's side, and stop seeing this, whatever it is, as something, because it's not. It's not. But how_?

That was the question, how? How will he ever manage to see Sherlock as just his friend and nothing else? How will he ever be okay with him being with someone else? How will he ever get over the detective? He thought he couldn't, but at least he had to try. At least it was better than getting his hopes up and then having his heart broken. Because it was a risk, Sherlock Holmes was always a risk, a risk he wanted to take, but that now he was starting to realize he had all the chances of losing. So what was the point of playing the game if he was going to lose it anyway? He decided it was better to withdraw, to resign now to avoid a future pain. It was going to be hard, so very hard, but he had to. He really had to.

John's voice now came out more like a whisper, in an attempt to hide the sudden realization and the incredible pain that was hidden behind it. He cleared his throat. "I'm very, very tired. It's been a long, long day. I'm going to sleep."

Sherlock was so unaware it was almost impossible for John to believe he actually didn't have the slightest idea. He didn't realize, he didn't feel, he didn't know. "Oh, alright then, my room is a bit messed up since Mycroft's slaves revolved it entirely but you can use the bed..."

 _Don't even say it because it's only making this harder._ "No, no. I'm not staying there tonight."

Yes, John realized it was for the best. He had to stop this, all of this, he had to pull the band-aid off. Painfully but quickly. Now or never. Sherlock looked at him and frowned. "Really? Why not?" God, he was still unaware, he seriously didn't know.

"Well... It's just that... You know... It's Harry's last day here and I'd like to spend every single moment from now on with her. Our relationship it's going so good, Sherlock. Things have changed so much."

Sherlock smiled. "Good, good. I'm glad. Well, have a good night, then."

"Thanks, so to you."

He turned. _Don't look back. It's the best choice. You're finally opening your eyes, Watson. Don't look at him. Just leave, just stay away from him for now. Let him live his life. Let him love her. You'll feel better as time passes, and then you and him can be as good pals as you have always been. But not now. Just leave, just leave him alone._

John heard a shout from Sherlock that stopped him immediately. "John!" He turned, he held a little hope left, he smiled, expectantly.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen my phone? I hadn't seen it since this morning."

Of course. What else could he expect? John tried, he really tried not to sound as sad as his voice ended up sounding. He sighed. "...no. I haven't."

"Uh, okay. Good night."

"Good night to you too."

He went upstairs to go to his own room. His cold, boring room. He knocked on the door. Harry half-opened the door. "Yes, John?"

"Can I stay here tonight?"

Harry frowned and looked at him confused. "What?"

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"But...why John? Did something happen?"

"Please Harry, don't ask anything else, don't. Just please, let me stay here, please."

"Of course John, we'll share the bed, then."

"Thank you."

"Are you okay, little brother?"

"No Harry, I'm not. Not at all."

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters to come. Soon. Very, very soon.


End file.
